Severus Snape's Legacy
by Ignus R
Summary: Two years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Minerva receives a letter revealing Severus Snape's biggest secret... and that secret's intent to enroll in the school Snape taught. DH compliant, still SS/LE and all the other canon pairings.
1. Announcement

_I go__t this idea ever since a reader (you know who you are) told me how they like stories where Snape is a dad. Well, Harry's dad, but while this is sometimes a fun yarn, not only has it been overdone, it also goes against my general clinging to main canon lines, even when I despise it, since fanfiction is to play with someone else's property- you shouldn't twist it out of shape, should you? _

_So here's a story that will be generally DH compliant, including Snape's infatuation with Lily, BUT, where he IS a dad and has a son (in a legitimate explanation how, too!). _

_I hope you enjoy! I know I cackled like a witch over her cauldron while hatching the plot. (this is no oneshot, but a story. Not a BIG story, but story nonetheless)_

_Onwards!_

***

It had barely been two years since the great Hogwarts Battle, the downfall of the Dark Lord and the reinstatement of order in the Wizarding World… as much as one could of course claim that there had been order in the first place. Minerva wouldn't quite call it order- the accurate term would be 'quiet'. Yes; it had been barely two years since the downfall of the Dark Lord and the reinstatement of quiet in the Wizarding world.

It had given Minerva time to think and evaluate everyone that had played a role in anything, including herself, and form more accurate impressions than the ones she had had. It had led her down a rather painful path of regret, of understanding, of resolutions for the time she had left upon the earth.

But as she looked at the letter in her hand, she knew that all her resolutions would be severely tested. Things that were supposed to have been safely locked in the past, hard choices which had forever gone by, everything seemed to suddenly be stacked in the future, as a challenge on how much she meant all that changed attitude. All her impressions and decisions about what everyone did, who everyone had been, who was to blame and who should have been apologized to or punished- things easily spoken of when there was virtually nobody left for those decisions to be put into action- would be tested for sincerity, for strength, for courage.

_Courage. _All the Gryffindor traits she had once boasted, when she had been more arrogant than she had ever suspected.

She read it once over, side glancing at the two portraits on her left and right; one was empty, the other was pretending to be asleep.

_To __Headmistress M. Mcgonagall of Hogwarts; _

_My name is Alexandra Geraka, head of the Athenian School of Magick and I am currently writing this letter to __you as the late Severus Tobias Snape's plenipotentiary (please see attached power of attorney). _

_Ever since my wizard debt's creation to mr. Snape, during his brief sabbatical here in Athens for his Potions research in the school years 1984 to 1986, I have to the best of my capacity acted in his stead as the guardian of his only son, who was born in June 1985. I am also attaching the birth certificate, both the Hellenic original as well as a certified translation for your benefit. I am unaware of your knowledge of the boy's existence, as it had been severely made clear to me as well as his mother that not one was supposed to be cognizant of the fact until at least Tom Riddle's downfall and a relative establishment of peace. _

_I cannot say that the dealings in Britain have given me any sound confidence that indeed, all trouble related to Severus Snape's involvement in the war in Britain has become extinct, but circumstances beyond my control are finally forcing me to take the action pre-agreed upon: I am therefore enclosing, along with the other documents, a transfer form for Severus Snape's son, Rasmus Octavian Snape, to Hogwarts to complete his schooling. _

_Please feel free to reject the transfer; arrangements have been made to ensure Rasmus will complete his schooling in either France or Italy should his father's homeland refuse him, but I know he would very much wish that you accept. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Alexandra Maria Eleni Geraka_

_First Hypate of Delphi_

_Athens School of Magick_

"The offer is sincere, you know," the silky voice made Minerva jump.

She looked to the side. Severus had returned to his portrait, and Minerva gulped. "You don't have to accept Rasmus," the portrait repeated, then added with a drawl: "We don't want you to be so ruffled for however long my son needs to complete his schooling, now do we?"

"Severus, did Dumbledore know? How can you have a son?" Minerva blurted out, shaking the birth certificate that had been enclosed in the smooth papyrus-coloured envelope the sea gull from Greece had delivered her. She peered owlishly at the paper and added:

"And-and with a woman! And –on my!- with Aello Berenike Galanou no less!"

"Now, Minerva, that is a daft question. About the how, and it is the norm for procreation to occur with-ah- women, as you so glibly put it. As for Dumbledore, he is not really sleeping, you may ask him yourself," Severus sat back in his painted chair with a flourish that always gave Minerva pangs of longing. The portrait Harry had commissioned on the school's behalf was exquisitely done, so life-like that the frame was more like a window to another reality where the real Severus looked to have been trapped in.

"I knew of it," Albus bragged. "But it was none of my business, and Severus had done everything necessary to ensure that Tom Riddle would never know about the boy; Rasmus had no role to play in this war except as a blackmail chip, and that had been covered beautifully. There was nothing I could do better, and I never fix what isn't broken."

Severus arched an eyebrow and tilted his head as if trying to look around his frame and into the one of his predecessor.

"Now that is a shocking fact; that you allowed me one string you didn't pull."

"Maybe as proof to myself that I was not… what I knew I had become for you, out of pleasure, but out of necessity," the white-haired headmaster said seriously.

"And I, Severus, owe you respect I never gave you. Your son is welcome here." Minerva's voice was forceful and decisive, and in the ambient silence of her office, the quill admitting the last of the Snape line to Hogwarts screeched.

By the time she sent the official owl off, she had also found her more flippant side, especially as Albus exclaimed how interesting it would be to see this Rasmus Octavian in the flesh.

"And in any case, Severus," Minerva teased, "if you won't tell me how you managed to father a son while so infatuated with Lily, I am sure he will enlighten me."

"You don't know my boy," was all Snape's portrait said in smug irony.

And indeed, when a week later, along with the boy's transcripts she got a letter penned in the young man's handwriting using muggle lined paper rather than parchment for his dark purple ink, the acerbic portrait's comment came to her mind again.

_Dear Professor McGonagall, _

_I am writing this on behalf of my guardian Mrs. Gerakas as she is currently indisposed with heavy potion treatments to thank you for accepting me in the school my father taught. _

_While the Hellenic system of education is different than the British one, father had supplied me with the general trajectories of the coursework as well as the titles of the textbooks and I am prepared to enroll in the fifth year, if your placement test finds me adequate. _

_Of the date choices you gave me to take the tests required, I would prefer August 10 so that I can have enough time for farewells to everyone here who protected me after mother's death and up to the end of the war. _

_Respectably, _

_Ras__mus Octavian Snape. _

He had signed that way, with a full stop next to his name. Minerva glanced at Snape's portrait on the wall- it was empty again. She sighed and placed the letter in Rasmus' student file.

_I don't know you, young Snape, just as your father's portrait said; but I do know that this year will not be quiet. _

****

And this is it. Next time we meet young Snape and maybe we get the scoop on who his mum was, and how Snape managed to bed her while still in love (so madly) with Lily. I'd appreciate some reviews, it will help me write this faster, as it's written purely for fun and to get someone to carry on for Snape, and speak for him without being named 'potter'.

That would be nice, ne? Oh, and I'll get to wrap some Greek meditteranean traits in the British demure ones! Fun! (for me, anyway)

Now, for the names: Rasmus is Latin and means 'beloved' (don't tell me severus was not a sap deep down), and is the name he picked. Octavian is… well self explanatory and it's what his mum picked.

Aello (his mother's name) is Greek and means 'whirlwind'… And 'Berenike' is Macedonian (a northern greek province) and means 'bringer of victory'.

Promising, right? Of course right!


	2. Arrival

_Hello again- this is a lightning fast update, isn't it? It's because I'm speed writing it for fun. My speed most likely won't be affected by your reviews, but my mood definitely will, including any ideas/preferences you may have, such as who you'd want Rasmus to interact with, and stuff. I just might incorporate it into the plot if it doesn't unhinge it!_

_And so, onwards! Chapter 2._

***

August 10 could not come soon enough.

Though it was only a mere month from the time the letter came, Minerva felt impatient and generally unable to think of much else than the unheard of, world shattering fact that Snape- _Severus_ Snape, perpetual resident of the dungeons and incurable devotee of someone long dead, _had a __**son**__._

She went through the transcripts with care, sometimes frowning to herself at course names that sounded decidedly… not magical, while others too advanced for children and still others too inclusive to be categorized in any one type of lesson. She had no doubt this young Snape would be… complicated. And the situation would also be complex.

Talking to the son of a war hero that was, indeed, so vigorously talked about even now- Skeeter had pre-announced the release of a book on the Potions Master with some garish title that she was trying to avoid knowing about, for fear of harping down on the impossible woman and transfiguring her into a cockroach permanently… it _shouldn't_ have been difficult. She would have no qualms talking to Teddy about Nymphadora or Remus.

But how do you talk to the son of the man who was scorned and hated, and did not survive to taste anything else but the murderous, abusive or manipulative appetite of even those who claimed they cared for him?

_Maybe he doesn't know too much about Severus' work here,_ she thought hopefully, but she knew that was next to impossible; even from the short, formally respectable letter it became clear that Rasmus had not been abandoned by his father and they had somehow maintained clear channels of communication.

She smiled a little, gazing at the empty frame of the Potions Master. She had felt a little less odious when the painting arrived, the active recognition of Snape's time as Headmaster being part of his resistance, his unsung war against Voldemort that he shouldered completely on his own, with nothing but task masters sharing knowledge of the truth about him. _You should have been in Gryffindor, for a heart as enormous as yours._ In truth she was happy that Rasmus existed. Children love their parents unconditionally, and Severus needed to have experienced that; the love of a child, and starry eyes full of wonder gazing up at you, and only you, as the only source of safety and good in the world…

But maybe Severus never experienced that. After 1986, she did not recall any trip to Greece being taken by him. Her face fell. Rasmus sounded precocious. How must it have burned, hurt to be unable to, well, simply brag about one's boy in the staff room? How much would praises heaped upon Harry have cut Severus to the quick, reminding him that he could not acknowledge his son?

"Yes, Minerva?" she glanced up from her desk to see Flitwick entering.

"I'll wait for the rest of the staff to join us through the floo for this, Filius. We'll be having a very special student to test in a month or so," Minerva said and side glanced at the tin box on her right. It was empty of sherbet lemons or any other confection, and McGonagall made a decision never to leave it empty of instantaneous comfort food from then on. Off the corner of her eye she saw Snape's portrait quietly return to the frame to watch, his expression one of gloating expectation. _Of course._

Definitely some comfort food tidbit. Maybe after-dinner mints.

***

Normally, she had the capacity of sending ahead her deputy headmaster, Professor Flitwick, to head the welcoming committee for a transfer student of any sort but there was no way that Minerva would not be there to see Snape's son arrive, even if he had taken the traditional wizard methods and either arrived in Hogsmeade or even used more exotic means of transportation like the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had done for the Triwizard.

But no; they would all just need to wait at the entrance of the castle for young mr. Snape to simply walk up to it. He would arrive by muggle transport, the Athenian school had written, by plane, landing in Leeds and getting the normal train to Aberdeen from there, whereupon at the appropriate point in the train's route, he and his accompanying professor from Greece would fly the rest of the way to Hogwarts castle. The headmistress didn't quite know why, but the easy manner the Greek wizards spoke about transportation that more than half of the british wizards knew nothing about- not to mention the lack of wizard stationery- made her uneasy, as if she was gazing over uncharted territory of some sort.

"Already so jittery, Minerva? _Tsk_, I would expect a Gryffindor to show more backbone," the portrait jeered from the side. She rolled her eyes. Snape had been doing more goading these past few weeks than the rest of his time as a portrait put together.

"Mind your own business, Severus," she snapped primly, and popped a mint in her mouth.

"My own business… as in seeing to matters concerning my son, you mean?" the snide remark was relentless in further unhinging her, so she huffed, plopped her hat on her head and stormed out to meet the rest of the professors.

It was only August yet, but nearly the entirety of her staff was already there, and how could they not be once they learnt of the news? Minerva had half-expected the Daily Prophet to trumpet the youngest Snape's existence and force her to deal with a swarm of letters, reporters and other publicity drama flotsam by then but the paper had been mysteriously quiet about it. It was extremely suspicious considering the raucous hubbub around the Potions Master's name; why weren't they all over this already?

It almost felt insulting, in a way; or threatening, as if they were preparing something especially malignant about this definitely unknown side of the double agent's life. _Or maybe they don't know yet, and the bombshell, along with whatever dung they will cook up to go with it, will be dropped when there are students on the grounds, too._

Minerva's mouth twisted in revulsion at the prospect. Trust the Skeeter creature to make the most fuss possible at the least convenient times.

"Minerva! Filius has made all the arrangements necessary," the new Head of Slytherin, Professor Vector announced, but McGonagall knew she was just saying something the headmistress already knew to pave the way for gossip. "I can't wait to see Severus' boy! I hear he has taken Arithmancy as a basic core course for the Greek middle schoolers- and his mother Aello was a brilliant and rather unconventional Potions mistress… and several say, rather beautiful," the professor smiled with meaning as Minerva took her place at the table in the main hall, all set for tea once the expected wizards arrived. And they would be any time now. To talk of the mystery of the boy's conception there and then made Minerva nervous.

"Septima, for the last time; Severus' portrait refuses to tell me what their relationship was, if there was any relationship at all between him and Aello," Minerva sighed.

"Rubbish!" professor Vector scoffed. "Severus was all about love-"

"- and hid it so well we were all convinced he was a torture-craving serial killer," McGonagall cut off her colleague in irritation. "Nobody except Albus knew his true colours, and he fooled us all, from both sides of the war, so don't presume to know just what he and Aello were, if anything."

"They were my parents. Hello, professors."

The last words rang out in the silence of McGonagall's rather loud statement, and the professors turned at the entrance to the main hall, where the calm voice that intoned just like _his_ had done had come from. Minerva felt her face flush in embarrassment- not only had they not been poised as they should have been, they were caught gossiping, and in _such_ a way! _Oh horror of horrors!_ She got up scurried forward, her staff in tow, and did her best to salvage some dignity by standing straight and smiling tightly at the boy in front of her and the wizard accompanying him.

"Hello, mr. Snape. I am Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts after your father," she uttered the rehearsed words- words she had measured to show the boy her stance, her allegiance, and respect towards the name he carried.

"We give our greetings," the accompanying Greek wizard with dark brown hair and light, almost amber eyes, said in a decidedly flat, rather loud, accent. "My name's Nikos Galanos, and I am Rasmus' uncle on his mother's side. It is my privilege to escort him here for you."

"You are most welcome," Minerva said and shook his hand- another muggle gesture, and she was happy to know how to respond, albeit with a tiny bit of latency. "Please, join us to the table, we are having tea."

She gestured for the newcomers to go on ahead of her as her staff also hurried to take their seat, just so that she could steal a cursory glance at Rasmus Snape. _Oh yes; you are his alright,_ she couldn't help thinking. The reed-thin 15 year old was definitely manifesting Snape genes- but oddly enough he was not a carbon copy of his father; one could see the maternal features there too, mixing together to create a whole that was surprisingly easy on the eyes.

Rasmus' hair was nearly black, but not quite- it was the colour of very dark chestnut, falling in easy feather-light strands upon the same pale complexion that had been Severus', just below his ears but well away from his eyes. He definitely had the Snape nose- it was large and hooked, but it was balanced out by a well shaped mouth that must have been his mother's, and eyes shaped just like Severus', but larger. They were a hard grey of dark stone, those eyes- dark enough to be deep like Severus' had been, and light enough to enclose thunder in their sharp glance.

And he walked just like his father did- quietly, purposefully, and with the lofty brooding that made Minerva's heart dip in hot water.

"You look to be a fine, strapping young lad," Flitwick was saying to fill in the awkward silence as the rest of the professors seemed to simply gawk. "I am very pleased to meet you- I am Professor Flitwick, I will be testing you at Charms. Will I be surprised?"

Rasmus arched an eyebrow as he sat rather demurely, not taking any initiative in pouring himself tea or taking anything on his plate. His hands knit upon the table- long, pale fingers that promised agility. He smiled thinly to match the professor's expression, but it did not reach his eyes as he looked at him askance. In fact, from the way her deputy seemed to fidget, McGonagall wondered if the look the young Snape gave him had not been withering.

"Surprised, professor? That would depend on what you expect me to do, I guess- or what you think I've been _raised_ to do." Rasmus' accent was not quite British, but it was not quite Greek either. "But you will find that I do, actually, enjoy wand-flicking and believe it can be what can save one's life."

_Wand-flicking_. Something Severus would say, Minerva shivered, watching how the youth wrapped a compliment in an insult, making his father's presence loom over the table in the same time but purposefully- and painfully- avoiding to mention his name. And oddly enough, the Greek wizard remained smugly silent, not trying at all to take part in what was, she felt, a performance the boy had intended to launch on them.

Minerva stirred her tea needlessly as she averted her gaze for a thoughtful moment. There was anger in those eyes that held stony thunder, and there was purpose other than just to make impressions. And hadn't his guardian said he _wanted_ to come to this school, the very one in which his father had breathed his last?

_Just what is it that you want of us, Rasmus Octavian Snape?_

Minerva had the sinking feeling of dread that she would find out after the fact.

***

_And that's it! How do you like Rasmus' first appearance? Doesn't he look like he already has an agenda? _

_Next time we get to see what Harry is doing, and Ron and Hermione (maybe) as well as the preparations for the school year to come, and so on and so forth. _

_So anti-climactic, the Greeks, aren't they? Rather than make a dramatic entrance on pegasi, they just sneak up on you while you're not looking. :) _

_Now for those of you who were so kind as to leave me reviews (and please give me some more. There's no fun in fanfiction if you're not sharing like I am ;) ) :_

_**Duj:**__ The term is very fancy indeed, but I wanted to use something very pompous/important sounding to indicate the way Athenians handle authority. I am also having plans for this term and its use. ;) _

_**ScarletRosePetal:**__ Thank you! I hope you like what you see here, and keep reading (and reviewing) _


	3. Sorting

_Hello again everyone! See how fast I update? It is because this little story just needs to get out of my head, and it's fun! _

_Just as a warning- some things in this story will be predictable… but only because it will make everything else anything but ;) in sort, expect twists and turns by the shovel, but not in the usual places. _

_That said, onwards! Chapter 3. _

_***_

Minerva had qualms about which place to use. Last night both Snape's son and his escort had slept in the guest wing, as the boy had no access to any one dormitory yet. This would be rectified today. Normally, sortings for transfer students took place in her office. But Severus' portrait was there. How would Rasmus react upon seeing it? How would the portrait? Was it wise to follow protocol or should she seek refuge to the deputy's office?

"You have not changed a bit," Snape sneered from his frame, leaning threateningly over the armchair's back instead of sitting in it. "You are still the cowardly lion all Gryffindors inadvertedly are."

"Severus! How could you tell me that?" Minerva exclaimed. "Did I not show your son the courtesy necessary?"

"I think, Minerva, that he is speaking of his own treatment by you."

"What, Albus? How can I _possibly_ be treating him wrong?" Minerva frowned crankily. Dumbledore's portrait always sided with Snape's these days- for everything, even on whether her tartan hat was silly or not. The eyes even managed to twinkle through the paint over the half-moon shaped glasses.

"Because I expect he would want to see his son after all this time."

Minerva almost blanched, but then scowled.

"You- _and __**him**__-_ are sodding bloody portraits! He is not Severus, but Severus' _portrait_!" she pointed at the glowering black-clad man.

"And pray tell me how can a 'sodding bloody portrait' as you call it, be able to give you answers to questions that require _critical thinking_, hm? How does the magic bind our _personality_ in this canvas? Can you honestly claim that _some_ part of me has not been summoned, bound, charmed, call it what you like, to animate this portrait so my experience and opinions would benefit you? And can you honestly imagine that this does not involve me _feeling_ things, Minerva?"

The way Snape banged his fist upon the canvas during his almost desperate tirade made it look like it was indeed a prison, a window at the mercy of those who made it, and yet another set of bonds for the soul of the man it depicted- with little choice on the matter and no reward if she did not choose to give it. It made her skin crawl. If he was correct, if the portraits were not just a magical item but the only way for the dead to communicate with the living- then Minerva had opportunities and obligations. Once again decisions that were not made in the past and the resolution for them in retrospect challenged her, mocking her, daring her to act on them now. She sighed and nodded.

"Very well, Severus."

***

"Come, mr. Snape," said Flitwick amiably an hour later, in Minerva's office, as Rasmus walked in with his uncle. "Let's get you sorted." He drew up the customary stool as Minerva held the Sorting Hat in her hands. It was glaring at the prospective student suspiciously, and Rasmus' eyes had narrowed in response even before he said good morning.

Minerva watched the two wizards approach, dressed in non-muggle clothes for the first time. The man, Nikos, had worn a typical dark colored muggle suit. The teenager had come dressed in simple clothes- muggle blue jeans and a shirt of dark purple- but this time, Rasmus was wearing his Athenian school's uniform. It consisted of sturdy cotton dark grey pants, a dark blue sweater with a white shirt underneath, and over all a short little dark blue cape with a white stripe at the hem. It draped across the chest and fell to the elbows in folds that made the reference to Hellenic antiquity clear, and was held in place with a clasp right under the left collarbone, shaped as the school's insignia: a shield with a medusa's head upon it, in front of a crossed dagger and wand. Minerva glanced at Nikos. The wizard's professor robes were pretty much like the student ones, except his cape was longer, reaching down to the waist, and colored crimson with two white stripes. He smiled at her amiably.

"Rasmus has not had a chance to acquire what is the requirement for Hogwarts' uniform just yet; I hope it does not offend you. Right after his tests, we will equip him with whatever else is needed, at Diagon Alley."

"No, no offence at all," Minerva said distractedly, watching Snape's son- his quick glance had immediately noticed his father's portrait.

Severus was standing in front of the armchair now, one hand balled right over his stomach, the other seemingly leaning on the frame. His expression was wistful and proud, and for the first time since the portrait woke up, Minerva saw Snape's face devoid of any acerbic or aggressive emotion. There was only pride, longing and sorrow there, but he did not speak.

And neither did his son, though it was obvious that it was done at a great effort not to- his breathing was more forceful and his mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. His eyes glistened more than would be normal, until Severus raised his chin in an inviting, defiant way. Minerva misread it as an invitation for Rasmus to speak, but apparently that was not the case, because his son straightened up, clearing his throat, and turned his back to the portrait as he sat down on the stool.

"I'm ready," he said, but his voice cracked a little, and Minerva bit the inside of her cheek to stay her expression from being anything but neutral. She stepped forward and hesitated. Should she say something? But what could be proper?

She just plopped the hat upon the boy's head.

"Hmmm. Hmmm! Here's a head I thought I wouldn't sit on again," the hat murmured in Rasmus' ear as it hopped and shuffled around its axis on his head. "But then again, you are not Severus, are you? You have intelligence and cunning, but you are not sly, I see. You have courage, too, to face anyone, and the conscientiousness to see it through. You would do well in any house, but Ravenclaw sounds to me-"

"Listen, you mangy old piece of glorified rag," Rasmus growled, glaring up at the rim of the Sorting Hat as he half-whispered, half thought of his address to it. "If you don't want me to sneak up here when nobody's looking and pull out your seams one by one and use them for my shoelaces while I use the rest of you for a dishrag, you will put me in Slytherin."

"Threats, eh?" the Hat mused. "That may or may not be empty. Ravenclaw suits you well."

"See into my mind; you know I do not bluff. I never make an idle threat," Rasmus said. "Slytherin, Hat. Now."

Minerva frowned as she watched how Rasmus had bent his head, so his face was not visible with the Hat on, whispering to it as his hands gripped the edges of the stool so tightly his knuckles were white. And the Hat was deliberating in a way she had very rarely seen before. And then suddenly, it nearly jumped off Rasmus' head and into her hands as it cried quickly:

"Slytherin! And only there!"

And Rasmus only smirked at it, nodding as if something went particularly well. He stood up and turned over his shoulder.

"Well done," was the only phrase Severus' portrait said, but the way Rasmus' eyes lit up, Minerva knew it was more than enough.

***

"It's all like he would describe it in his letters," Rasmus said, looking around him in Diagon Alley, speaking in Greek with Nikos who was accompanying him. "It's like I've always been here."

"Yet your voice is sinking," Nikos glanced at the teen's profile. He was bending his head so that his hair, wind-swept like his mother's, was hiding his eyes a little. Nikos shuddered to himself- when only the sharp outline of the nose and jaw were visible Rasmus did not just resemble his father. He _was_ him. "Is it the portrait? Seeing him again after the mirror went inactive?" he ventured softly, placing a hand upon his shoulder.

Rasmus shook his head.

"No, no. I was happy to see it. Glad, really. I know what it signifies, that they gave him a frame there. I'm silly, uncle. I don't know why I feel like just crying inside. Mum always knew how to make it right, but I don't."

"Was it that hat thingy?"

"It's the grave."

Nikos understood, but he did not speak, waiting Rasmus out. And indeed, the boy spoke again, looking at him- exactly like his mother would when she was worried, with the same arch of the eyebrows and the same biting of the lips.

"I know it's here somewhere, along with Dumbledore's. I know what they're up to. I know… oh, uncle Nikos, how will I do it?"

Nikos sighed and squeezed the youth's shoulder a bit, then draped an arm around his shoulders.

"With any luck, you won't even have to. That's why I am here, remember? Why don't you try to leave the future to itself, like Aello would say, and enjoy the now? You passed with flying colours in everything, got into Slytherin like you wanted, got course choices- which is an unreachable dream in Athens! Just enjoy it, and let's go buy your books and stuff, shall we?"

Rasmus smiled thinly for a moment, holding Nikos' gaze. Then, after a couple of moments, and as if he saw in the greek's eyes what he had been looking for, he chuckled and nodded, shaking his head as if to throw off the morose emotions he'd been harbouring.

"You're right, let's!" he said. "Let's go to Flourish and Blott's first! I want to browse around, too. You pick the textbooks in the list, and I'll pick the interesting books- oh! And a trip by Obscurus' next!" he grinned and Nikos laughed, glad to see his nephew's mood elevate. Books tended to help in that respect.

"Fine; but after that we _will_ go buy you robes, even if I have to drag you there in a body bind," he warned as he followed the teenager that was now purposefully making a beeline for the bookstores, cutting his way through the crowd.

***

"Honestly, Hermione, I _am_ able to sort through my own bibliography needs," Harry said a little crankily as he saw a pile of books floating into his line of vision. "I don't want you to pick my reading for me."

"Actually, this is the reading you will have to do whether you like it or not- it's the book list for our seventh year," Hermione said in clipped tones. "I simply took the liberty of picking three of each for you, Ron and me. You know; so that you can lollygag the rest of the time or 'sort through your bibliography'," she added with a sweet grin and bat of the eyelids. Harry groaned.

"Sorry, 'Mione, really sorry. I guess I'm a bit tense about returning to Hogwarts. I wouldn't do it if I didn't absolutely have to."

"Well, technically you _don't_ absolutely have to," Hermione said. "Nobody will say no to you no matter what position you want to shoot for, in the ministry or outside of it."

"Yes, but that would make me something like… hmm, something like Lockhart," Harry made a face as he peered at the book spines for what he was looking for. "I'd be using my fame to get 'special treatment'."

Hermione glanced at her friend and smiled fondly. She loved to see this new development in Harry.

"Wouldn't he be nodding in smugness in hearing you say that," she said but Harry grinned and shook his head.

"Naw, he'd scoff and say I was trying to curry favour. And maybe I am."

"Harry, I got it! Here's the book," Ron's voice called a corridor further down, and he and Hermione scooted over there.

Ron was happily waving a small volume, which he handed to Harry as soon as he approached, titled _Taboos, Espies, Detectors: How to Find what Does Not Want to be Found. _

"That's great Ron! No wonder we took so much to find it, it's so small!"

"Actually, I didn't find it, this fellow did and was kind enough to give it to me," Ron said with a smile and turned towards a younger boy that was clutching in his hands another copy of the same.

"No trouble," the boy drawled although it was obvious he was not at ease. "There are two copies. We can both have one."

Harry had the distinct impression that this boy knew him- not as a celebrity from the newspaper, but _knew_ him for him. It was a creepy feeling, because Harry also felt like the boy was familiar. Too familiar.

"Well, thank you nonetheless," Harry smiled into grey eyes that glared at him in a way he never thought he would be glared at again.

"Don't thank me, Potter," the boy said, spitting the last name, and about turned, storming off without waiting for introductions.

The trio was dumbstruck for a second, but then Harry blurted out:

"My! Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm thinking how fortunate we are that Snape didn't have any sons- 'cos he'd be him," Ron muttered, and ducked being whacked with the book that happened to be in Hermione's hands.

"You are both incorrigible!" she exclaimed when Harry laughed as well, but she couldn't help smiling either at the absurd thought.

And yet, her heart sank a little that it couldn't be true- for Snape's sake.

***

_And that's that! __So we see that not only Rasmus, but Nikos as well DO have an agenda! And what about Snape's tomb? And what about the extra reading that __**Harry**__ (gasp!) wants to do, and seems to be in Rasmus' book choices, too? _

_We'll find out soon! I am accepting theories in reviews! Or anything else you are thinking right now. ;) _

_**Suchrandomness:**__ interesting that you think there would be public regret regarding Snape… As for Rasmus' competence in Potions, we'll see. _

_**Aki Momo: **__Thanks!! I was shooting for a bit of originality. _

_**Sherbet Lemon Addict:**__ Yep, pretty sure, he was alive when Sevvie was. :P_

_**Cyiusblack:**__ This is as soon as I can make it. _


	4. Preparations

_Hello everyone again, and Have a happy new year. May these coming 365 days bring you to a state of well being and happiness, or maintain it! _

_I like this daily uploading. It feels like I'm broadcasting episodes. I am a little put out though that nobody bothered to comment a little on the whole meticulous design of school uniforms and crest for the Athenian school. Did you not like it even a little bit? Or is Rasmus so awesome that you wouldn't notice if I said that everyone was naked in that office? *chuckle* _

_Let's see then, what other pieces there are on the chess board, shall we?_

_Onwards! Chapter 4. _

_*** _

Rita Skeeter glanced around her nervously, tugging at her coat and avoiding eye contact with the muggles swarming around her. She hated venturing out into muggle London, where nobody knew her, and she knew nobody- and nothing. The looks some of those- _people_ gave her! As if they were seeing a circus freak. A child even pointed and giggled, as if something was wrong with her clothes, her hair, or her face. And his mother just pulled him along, hurrying away the way one would hurry away from a Knockturn Alley inhabitant.

She snorted. Muggles. What did they know?

Her heels clacked upon the pavement as she followed the instructions to the meeting place. It turned out to be a museum of some sort, with wax figures leering at everyone from all angles the moment one stepped in- even on the staircase they had perched a wax kid sitting precariously on it. The muggles around her seemed to love it, and she felt out of sorts and disoriented, dumbly going up the stairs with the crowd until someone grabbed her upper arm and yanked her away from the stream of people.

"Follow me," the man muttered. He was blonde and blue eyed this time- his glamour over his face changed every time, and only the voice remained the same.

"You're hurting me," she complained, stumbling to meet the wider stride. The man forced her through rooms upon rooms filled with those wax dolls of people standing around in various types of costumes, until they reached a room with a little train-like contraption. _The Spirit of London_ it was announcing garishly, and the man shoved her into one of those moving seats, and sat down heavily next to her as well.

He didn't speak until the show- more wax dolls in various scenes, some of which she recognized vaguely from history lessons, like the great fire of London, making a racket that would effectively drown their voices. Why the man would not cast a silencing charm was beyond Rita Skeeter, but she didn't ask him. They were under an agreement not to.

"I saw him in Diagon Alley, just as you said," she reported. "There was another wizard with him, guarding him at all times."

"That's Nikos Galanos. He's very dangerous. You'll have to wait until he can't be around the boy to approach him."

"Fine, fine. But then you'll let me run the story, right?"

"Right," the man conceded.

"The way I want to? No text editing?"

"As long as you keep us out of it."

"Naturally," Rita grinned and thrust her palm out at the man. He dropped a pouch of coins on it. She pocketed it and sat back, waiting for the ride to finish, stroking her wand under her purse. _Thank Merlin for dictating spells,_ she thought smugly, knowing that back in her office, there would be insurance waiting for her.

***

Rasmus folded the greek school uniform carefully and put it in the bottom of his school trunk. Then he slid it at the foot of his bed. His Slytherin bed, in the Slytherin dorm for fifth years. He smiled to himself and rose up, standing to the mirror to tie the silver and green tie around his neck before pulling on his robes.

"You look dashing, dear," the mirror said as he brushed his hair back. Rasmus chuckled a little self-consciously.

"Thanks, mirror; but I'm not handsome or dashing. Check out the nose," he turned his profile to the mirror, flaring his nostrils to underline his point.

"But that's what gives you personality," the mirror argued. Rasmus shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"That's what my mother used to say. Thanks, anyway." He hurried away from the mirror and directed himself out of the dormitory- and right in front of his Head of House.

Septima Vector smiled at him, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

"Hullo, mr. Snape," she said.

"Eh, hello, professor," he said cautiously. At the small pause, he tried to side step and walk past the professor, but she stepped in front of him again.

"Not so fast," she grinned again. "I am here for you. Your uncle mentioned that you were advanced in some courses, due to the nature of the greek curriculum, and the Headmistress thought it wise not to bore you entirely with only the fifth year material, but grant you participation in some of the more advanced electives of the sixth and seventh year if you make the cut for them."

Rasmus smiled, his eyes lighting up.

"That's great, professor, thanks."

"I trust you already have a list of higher level classes you'd like to attend?"

"Uh, yes! Of course," Rasmus nodded. "I'd like more advanced Potions, Runes and Defence Against the Dark Arts, if possible."

Professor Vector's eyes showed a bit of disappointment, but then the dangerous gleam returned to her eyes.

"All right; then the rest of August, the professors teaching these subjects will first test you on the fifth year material, to ensure you have covered that, and then give you one task as homework to grant you entry to the sixth or seventh year, depending on the difficulty. You will still need to sit your OWLs though."

Rasmus nodded and smiled, looking forward to it all. If everything went according to plan, he would gain the access he wanted before the castle was filled with students, and everything that would force him to face. The Head of House left to inform the Headmistress, and Rasmus grinned after her before turning to go find Nikos and inform him.

But halfway down the corridor, he was stopped short by the voice that made his heart skip once in a pang of grief.

"This is a mistake, son."

He turned sharply to his left. In the painting of a large meadow with playful horses, was standing the figure of his father- the painting styles clashed harshly. Severus' expression was worried.

"What is a mistake? That I want to try for higher level classes? You and I know I can!"

Severus scowled.

"Don't get smart with me, boy! You know I am not talking about your academics! You are up to something. Until yesterday I thought it was just about forcing the Hat to do your bidding but no; I saw that Nikos' airs- he had the look of dabbling in trouble; and righteous trouble at that, the worst kind! He's pulling you into trouble, just like he used to with Aello!" He pointed at his son accusingly, squinting his eyes.

Rasmus frowned and snorted.

"Nikos is here to protect me, _on your arrangements_, might I add: Yours and mother's. Didn't you and mother pick my godfather _knowing_ that you'd both die soon enough for me to need him?"

Snape scowled again.

"Aello trusted her brother in Greece, and I trusted nobody in Britain. What is going on?"

Rasmus swallowed, and leaned against the wall next to the portrait. He shut his eyes and sighed.

"We… don't know."

"You can't lie to me, Rasmus Octavian Snape," Snape said angrily, his lip curling in anger. "What has _Nikos_ seen in his charts? What _is going on?_"

Rasmus gritted his teeth, torn between telling his father's portrait everything, and waiting for the right time. _Remember this is not your father- not fully. As a portrait he's bound to do what McGonagall orders him, and tell her what he sees and learns._ He breathed in and leaned off the wall.

"We don't know. Just let it go, dad. I got studying to do."

Snape was left there, trapped in the frame, staring after his son for a few moments before he, too, purposefully switched frames.

***

Minerva smiled at the Snape boy's chaperon, offering him a cup of tea.

"When will you be returning to Greece, Mr. Galanos? I know your term starts in early September as well."

"Actually, I am on leave for this trimester, so that I can focus on my project," Nikos smiled back in the amiable way he seemed to have with everyone. "Not in Hogwarts, mind you- I don't want to abuse your hospitality. But I will make arrangements to stay in Hogsmeade until Rasmus really settles into everyday life, and use my time in the UK to benefit from your indispensable magical libraries."

"Oh," Minerva said, and somehow felt ill at ease at this announcement. "And what is your project, if I may be so bold?"

Nikos grinned like a school boy himself.

"By all means. I am an Arithmancer, but that was not always my area of expertise."

"I do seem to recall that you were a Healer," Minerva nodded. "You prolonged your sister's life impressively much."

"Thank you, but that is unfair praise. Severus did most of that, back in '84 when he took the challenge."

"Arithmantic Enhancement of Potion Making," I believe was the title of the thesis Severus wrote after his sabbatical," Minerva looked at the younger wizard pointedly. She wondered idly just how old he was. He looked to be Severus' age, or around that- but wizards aged very slowly. Madame Hooch was a good example of that.

Nikos nodded.

"You're right- I plead guilty. At that time I had already began dabbling in Arithmancy to enhance treatment of Craigh Disease and maybe even Heal it, but I needed a potion maker of mastery level who wouldn't be afraid to be blown across Delphi while brewing and would be good enough to work around potion ingredient interactions. Hence, Severus. He was absolutely brilliant."

"Severus always was brilliant in everything he took upon himself to complete," Minerva said, side looking at the frame on her left. It burned at the edge of her tongue to ask the greek wizard if Rasmus was not the result of some arithmantic potion by product, but she couldn't bring herself to with Snape there watching. And he was, though he sat in his portrait's armchair as still as if he were inanimate.

***

The door to the office closed, the room warded for sound, the man stood respectfully, waiting to rattle off his progress report to the one sitting behind the desk of a muggle, very muggle, post office. The man behind the desk rolled his wand in his hands as he asked in a quiet voice:

"The reporter will get us his blood. How are we doing with the scarab and ankh?"

"They will be here soon enough."

"I need a _date_, Avery! Or I won't be able to make the charts work for the ritual."

"Antonin said October 3 at the latest."

"Fine. Then we are good to go."

"And what about Galanos?"

"You leave that twat to me. He will not survive September."

The man nodded, and his superior waved him off, hiding his wand as he picked up his muggle pen and muggle post office seal.

***

_And that's that! As it's New Year's, I don't have the time to answer the reviews now, but I will tomorrow, so feel free to comment here for both chapters if you want, add things, you know. I'll be avidly answering them!_

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and leave me review presents in return ;) _

_**So Happy New Year!**_


	5. Testing

_Hey hey hey! Hope you had a great New Year._

_If the whole story about Snape's son had hit me earlier, I may have timed one of the coming ep- eh, chapters to fall on the first day of the year that are going to be more… well fun, considering our Mr. Rasmus' favourite past time. No, I'm not going to tell now. ;) _

_So, after the first few strokes of darkness looming around, let's get down to school business shall we? _

_Onwards! Chapter 5. _

_*** _

Potions was taught by a rather young-looking bespectackled witch, petite and thin with potion-stained hands and a huge dark brown apron when in session or brewing, which she was when Rasmus entered to take the test to grant him access to higher Potions classes.

"Come, come, come," she said in a brusque tone, waving him further in.

Rasmus obeyed, glancing around him. This was still the dungeons, just like his father had described the location of his classrooms to be, but it was completely different than any of the photos or descriptions he had grown up with. Instead of the gloomy and drab, half-lit atmosphere, there was abundant light everywhere of a warm yet white colour. The stone walls stood out in high relief, their surfaces barely visible from the paintings, shelves and various other things hanging on them, giving the classroom a homely, almost cozy sense of ease- but not relaxation.

The light was strong, making it easy for the eyes to focus- but it also left no shadow in which to hide. Also, the work benches were rearranged in a large circular layout that made all the students- and their work- face to the centre and able to look at each other. And most of all, Rasmus assessed immediately, it would allow the professor easy access anywhere, at any time, with virtually nothing to escape her glance.

He glanced at her as she was bent over her cauldron. She was watching him, too, with a neutral expression.

"Approach, what are you waiting for? I want you to look at this."

She had olive green eyes and auburn hair that promised to be scary if unleashed, twisted up in a turkeytail. Rasmus hurried over and looked at the simmering potion. The professor allowed him a moment, then asked:

"What do you suppose this is?"

"Hm…" Rasmus contemplated. The bubbling surface was a serene rich blue, and there was the stimulating smell of eucalyptus wafting from it. "I think it is some sort of tonic, or healing potion," he said.

"How do you surmise that?" the professor further asked, watching him the whole time.

"Well, healing potions tend to be viscous, like this… and eucalyptus is used mostly in anything that's stimulating the heart, or easing breathing, or generally easing pain and fever," Rasmus shrugged.

The professor smiled.

"That's quite right," she nodded. "This is an Invigoration Draught. Why don't you go over there and brew me one just like this, and after that we can decide on what _truly interesting_ thing you can do for me to grant you entrance in my Advanced Potions class, shall we?" she waved her wand and the appropriate cauldron and stirring stick popped on one of the desks. "Feel free to pick through the shelves and hooks on the walls to find your ingredients."

Rasmus could not help smiling back. He had a good feel for teachers, and he knew that while this one would be tough, she would be incredibly fun as well.

"Sure. Thank you," he nodded and turned to the bench.

"By the way, Mr. Snape," she used his name for the first time, "I am Professor Erna Frideswide. I do hope you will make the cut."

"I will," Rasmus said with simple assertiveness.

***

The Potions test finished, Rasmus walked out into the empty castle corridors feeling rejuvenated, just like every time he completed a task he enjoyed doing. And the professor had been good to offer him a choice between three projects with a deadline of August 29. Three projects that were interesting and challenging, and Rasmus felt like doing them all just for the fun of it.

His legs seemed to make him float towards the next floor, his shoes' heels tapping to a tune that had refused to go out of his head from the moment he began brewing- _I Won't Dance_- and energy made him thirst for the next test in the schedule, Defense against the Dark Arts. He chuckled to himself, and for the whole while he nearly danced his way to the classroom, everything truly was right in the world; it always was after a potion well brewed, a spar-duel well played, a book review well done.

He opened the door after knocking, pulling out his wand, a smile still playing at his lips.

"_Impedimenta!"_

Rasmus barely had time to jump out of the way like a panicked frog, eyes wide. What was that?

But the man in the room still growled, pointing his wand at him again:

"_Confringo!_"

"_Protego!_" Rasmus shouted now that the first moment of surprise had passed, and then after the curse smashed against his shield harmlessly, without thinking about it much further he cried:

"_Stupefy! Petrificus Totalis!_"

The two spells flew in quick succession, forcing the man to allow Rasmus a moment of respite while his attacker busily protected himself from both.

"_Tarantallegra!_" Rasmus added after having taken cover behind a sizeable set of office cupboards. Still his mind was reeling. Was this the test or had he gotten the wrong room, the one where they kept the nutters in?

Suddenly, the cupboard shrunk from in front of him, just in time to allow a careening leg locking curse to hit him. He toppled with a thud.

"Attack a teacher, do you, Mr. Snape," came the rather jeering tone of the man as he approached, but Rasmus was not done, gritting his teeth at getting caught like an idiot.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he snarled though his legs had locked together and there was no hope for him to get up off the floor anytime soon. The man's eyes widened and he made an evading move, and the curse barely missed- but miss it did. The man flicked his wand, lightning fast, and the Impediment curse took any hope of winning away.

"You don't give up in a duel," the man said thoughtfully. He was well in his fifties, of obvious Asian descent, with dark hair and eyes. He was not too tall, but well built. There were scars across his face, like one side of it had been grated against something. "And you have reflexes. Not very inventive though, are you, although I wager your dark-dabbling father must have taught you a ton of curses, mmm? The first thing you should have done, Mr. Snape, would be to ensure my wand would be unreachable to me-not making me dance the jig, but still able to use my hands and mouth."

Rasmus simply glared. The man arched an eyebrow, then clicked his tongue and flicked his wand.

"_Finite_. Get up."

Rasmus did, clamping his mouth shut almost stubbornly. He couldn't deny that what the man was saying was true; he dueled for the fun of it, not to save his life. Wasn't that what he'd always been told back in Athens? He would have agreed with the man and been respectful-

…but nobody sneered at his parents' memory.

The man was circling him, as if appraising him.

"So, why do you want more advanced DADA than fifth year? Do you fancy yourself better than others? Or are you eager to single yourself out for some obscure elitist and violent prone group that I should know about? Preferably before it yields the next Dark Lord?"

"Are you trying to goad me into talking back to you, _sir_?" Rasmus managed to keep his voice calm, but his knuckles around his wand whitened again.

"I am asking you to answer my question," the man said. "Answer it."

Rasmus exhaled in moderation.

"No, sir, I am not affiliated nor am I interested in becoming so with any sort of obscure, elitist and violent prone group, known or unknown. I do not intent on ever officially becoming a wand-happy, wand-abusing and curse-delirious simpleton that attacks minors or adults, either."

The man grinned a little- it was not a happy grin or a satisfied one, but rather a feral one set on an opponent.

"I see. Answer my question then, and become more adept in conversation than you are at dueling."

_Don't talk back. It's what he wants. He doesn't want you in advanced classes, he's trying to goad you out. _He tried to school the silky irony out of his voice as he answered.

"Because as I understand it sir, the material covered in fifth year has already been covered in my school back in Athens, and I am interested in progressing further. I like to learn."

The man squinted his eyes at him, then snorted.

"Well, since you did hold out in a duel against me for the whole of five or so seconds, here is your assignment: On the last day of August, I will call you back in here and cast this curse at you. If you manage to shield or cancel it effectively, I will accept you in my Advanced class. Dismissed."

The man thrust a piece of paper in Rasmus' hand and then virtually shoved him out of the room and shut the door behind him. _What the hell just happened?_ Rasmus couldn't help thinking, frowning to himself. He felt dampness on his back and forehead- he'd broken sweat, and he knew it was from nerves more than the exertion. He swallowed and glanced at the paper.

_Research the curse 'Antahiga'. _

_Prof. Guiren Bai_

Rasmus hadn't heard of the particular spell before. He shrugged and shoved the paper in his pocket. He'd handle this. He was good at research… and he had just gotten one good excuse for access to the restricted sections of the library.

The smile returned to the young man's lips, and he walked away to lunch whistling. It was not long before the bounce that made his heels clack to the rhythm returned to his gait, too.

***

_And that's it for tonight! It is, after all, New Year's. But I introduced the two new professors (I hate adding multiple OCs, but I suppose it is necessary for post DH staff) that will be important to the story (along with others), and some more academic action. _

_Next time, we see Harry again, and what Nikos is up to… and some more stuff about important background. :) _

_**Remi Hakvoort:**__ Thank you! I hope you like this one, too. _

_**Duj: **__Eventually, if something else doesn't happen, I expect she'll cave and just order him to spill the beans rather than just ask him. _

_**Ctc**__:Yay! At least someone did except me! As for Severus, I guess it's harder to parent when you're a piece of canvas, but he'll sure try._

_**Tar heels superstar:**__ wow! That sounds like quite the theory! But Rasmus was legitimately carried and given birth to by Aello. _

_**Angelous369:**__ Thanks! I am not sure that Severus could be brought back two years after his interment. But we'll see._

_Till tomorrow! Review at will :D_


	6. Researching

_Hello, hello! _

_I feel I must thank you all for all the story favourites this little yarn has already gotten. I hope it continues to entertain, and as always, feel free to speak up, I love to read your thoughts._

_So, without any more ado (I had planned to say something here, but I am truly, __**truly**__ tired from craft chores in the house- no magic, so I completely forgot what it was)… _

_Onwards! Chapter 6. _

_*** _

Harry got up very early, so early that the only sounds in the Burrow were soft chinks from mrs. Weasley's breakfast fixing. It was nearly the end of August, and he would be going back to Hogwarts for the seventh year along with Ron and Hermione- though he suspected Hermione was along only for moral support and maybe some obscure private class with some of the professors. Harry found that even two years after- _then_- he felt jittery returning to the place where so many shed their blood, and did not come back like he was lucky enough to do.

But he had to.

He side glanced at the little blue book he'd studied for the past month, then sighed and started dressing. Not only was it necessary to have completed some of the seventh year courses to be legitimately qualified to enter any sort of auror program, but to tie up all the loose ends from –_then_- he needed information he had to find new ways to access.

In the past two years he had aided in finding, hunting down, discovering every Death Eater still at large. Or rather, he had done it even though he was often asked not to. Harry just couldn't help it. There was too much revenge to be had that was not yet extracted, and the force of that anger propelled him forwards even when aurors grumbled and the ministry sent him letters. He was not alone in this- Ron had the same thirst, soothing his grief in that way and Hermione… well, Hermione was there just to ensure they both survived every escapade.

Of course officially, all the Death Eaters were caught, presumed dead or Kissed. But Harry knew better. He just had no evidence to take to the aurors or the ministry, not after the last Death Eater they were looking for was accounted for: Dolohov's mangled body was found right where the spells had indicated he would be, at the deepest part of a grotto in Kent that apparently had been used for centuries by dark wizards to hide creepy stuff in there. He appeared to have died due to flesh-devouring curses, which did not bother Harry one bit to consider as cause of death for the murderer of Remus Lupin.

But not more than two months ago, Harry started having dreams again. Sinister dreams, not directed to him, of dark figures preparing for rituals the likes of which he had not seen except in his fourth year. They were not dreams, nor his imagination- Harry was positive of it, and Hermione had checked in some obscure magical way he did not really understand but trusted. He sighed as he peered in the mirror, putting on his glasses. When he went to the aurors with it, and Hermione's attestation, he was referred to St. Mungos for psychological post-traumatic shock treatment.

He sneered at the memory of that scene and picked up the book again. After breakfast he'd gather his things and go to Hogwarts. After all in less than three days classes would begin, and Harry wanted to have some time when it was still quiet to research the other two references the little book sited for the spells and charms he needed to prove to the ministry and aurors what he knew was true. _Ah, Professor Snape… if you were around, you'd believe me, even if you'd sneer and kick me out._

Harry found he missed the dark man who had been so decisive in the past more and more as time passed since his death. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but he most certainly did.

Not that he'd ever share that feeling with Ron- because then it would be Ron that would drag him to St. Mungos to have his head checked.

***

Nikos paid the sum demanded of him by the landlady of a rather cozy flat in Hogsmeade. It was two little side streets away from High Street, and had enough room for a bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. Nikos smiled as he looked around, then warded the room and pulled his shrunk belongings out of his pockets.

He opened his trunk- a hulking thing made of heavy greek sculpted pine- and pulled out the table he always carried around. It was just right for the huge sheets of paper Nikos used for the charts. Setting it in the middle of the room, he spread the sheet on it and waved his wand.

"_Anadeikse,"_ he murmured, and the busy scrawl on the paper, with all the numbers, letters and crisscrossing lines seemed to come alive.

The ink became quicksilvery and lifted from the paper like a small vortex over the large paper, while lines etched themselves in the air like an ethereal grid before Nikos' wand. Nikos' eyes searched the developing map, and as soon as it was completed, he began murmuring and swishing his wand, furthering the equations. Then he took a step back, watching the whole time, chewing on his cheek.

"Where are you?" he whispered. "And when?"

And just then, the silvery web of equations, latitudes, and timelines flashed a golden yellow and wrapped around Nikos' head, making the wizard yell in agony and drop in a heap in the middle of his new, warded room, eyes wide, pupils dilated.

***

Rasmus found what he had wanted to get into the restricted area of the library for quite easily, and had copied it and sent it off to Nikos in the first few days after his assignments were given. The trouble, it turned out, was to find what that bloody 'Antahiga' curse Professor Bai was going to hit him with was. Rasmus had begun despairing when August twenty rolled in and he still had no idea what the spell was, let alone how to counter it. And though he glimpsed at his father jumping through the frames to stay in his line of vision, he refused to give in and ask him if he knew the answer- he wouldn't give Guiren Bai the satisfaction, if this was a Dark Arts spell, to accuse him of having it taught to him by his 'dark-dabbling father'.

He banged his head upon the table, expecting his head to make a hollow sound. And then, he opened his eyes in excitement.

"Wait a bloody moment! What if I turn this on its head?"

He grinned to himself, eyes gleaming dangerously, and got up to run to the shelves again, wand out to summon the titles he wanted.

***

"Minerva, you must oversee Rasmus- and that guardian of his," Severus told the Headmistress the moment she entered, very early in the morning. It was the last week before classes and Minerva sighed.

"Honestly Severus, what do you want me to do? The man has not been on Hogwarts grounds since Rasmus got started on his projects."

"Then floo him wherever he is! He is up to something, and he's dragging my son into this!"

Minerva rolled her eyes.

"So I should floo him and tell him that one of my office's portraits thinks he's up to something and so I am checking on him?"

Snape grit his teeth.

"When you hired that insufferable auror for the Defense position, did I harass you about it?"

"Yes," Minerva said dryly.

"No," Snape asserted menacingly. "You will ascertain that once you experience what it means to be harassed on an issue if you _don't ask Galanos what he is up to!_"

"Minerva, try to think, did he mention anything that could imply if he is doing anything besides escorting Severus' son?" Dumbledore tried to offer assistance McGonagall did not particularly want.

"Oh, _please_," there came another exasperated voice of another Headmaster from a portrait higher up in the wall. "He said he was working on some arithmantic project, didn't he?"

"Thank you, Nigellus," Minerva groaned, rubbing the crown of her nose and trying not to give in to plucking a chocolate mint so early in the day.

Then she glared at Snape who was still trying not to allow himself to be out of her line of vision.

"Fine, you win. I will floo him, ask him a couple of questions, but I refuse to pester the man for you."

Snape was silent, but he did sit back down in his armchair.

Minerva sighed and heaved herself off the armchair, and towards the fireplace.

Throwing in a pinch of floo, she called out:

"Nikos Galanos!"

The green fire flared and McGonagall thrust her head in, intending to glimpse around the room and retreat, claiming that the wizard was either not there, sleeping or too busy.

But what she saw made her gasp and just walk through without thinking, wand out.

***

_And that's that! __Things are starting to happen, aren't they? What do you think is going on? _

_**Moira of the mountain: **__Thank you! I don't think it would be realistic to create a full Snape clone. Especially since this son of his also knew his mother and grew in a different cultural environment. I hope you will continue to like him! As for Guiren, he certainly has his own views about who Severus was. ;) _

_**Duj:**__ Hm, well, wait before you dismiss the approach until you see how the lesson is conducted. And yes, the potions classes do have fewer students per session in them when they begin being more advanced (and the dungeons are reserved for those)_

_**Suchrandomness**__: What is unexpected?_


	7. Attempting

_Hello again! I'm just back from work and sitting down to write today's installment. There are a dozen things clamoring to be said, but I do have one important question for today. Tomorrow's chapter is a crossroads of some sort. I know I said this was to be a small story (about10-15 chapters) but it does have the capacity of becoming double that size or even a new arc of sorts, with more stories in this setting. What would you prefer? I need an honest answer, please :)_

_That said, onwards! Chapter 7. _

***

There were numbers everywhere. Their ethereal, silvery ink-like substance resembled some sort of living web that had crawled and spread on the floor, the walls, the ceiling of the small flat. They were even on the furniture, covering the bed, the couple of chairs and the trunk. The table was overturned, but somehow the large sheet of paper was spread upon it. Behind it, two feet lay limply. It was that which made Minerva rush in, wand out.

Nikos was lying on his back, eyes wide as his mouth formed words Minerva couldn't hear. That was not what scared her. It was the blood. It was oozing in thin rivulets from the greek wizard's ears, and it had begun pooling around his eyes- he blinked often as his irises flicked this way and that, taking in the enormous chart that his room had become.

"Mr. Galanos!" Minerva knelt next to him, and tentatively shook him from the shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

The man shivered but didn't reply. He didn't seem to have heard her at all and just continued to speak without a voice, as his wand made slight movements in his very loose grip upon his stomach. Minerva glanced around, and sure enough, the equations were not static but dynamic, changing and evolving, making the lines change, branch out or snap into place in a grid that looked to have no discipline or pattern, but Minerva knew to be highly mathematical, full of spirals, circles, hyperboles and every other shape equations translated into.

"Please, Mr. Galanos," she tried once more but the trance-like expression did not shift at all.

Then, blood started oozing from his nostrils, and around his mouth, and Minerva knew she had to get help.

"Hold on, hold on!" she murmured and rushed back to the fireplace.

***

Rasmus walked into Professor Vector's office. She smiled at him.

"Well, goodmorning, mr. Snape. How are you today?"

"Well, professor," Rasmus nodded as he sat down respectfully.

"We'll know about your advanced classes tomorrow, but what about the rest? Are you well prepared for them? You will be meeting your classmates in three days."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Rasmus averted his gaze for a moment, then looked back at his House Head hesitantly. "Uh… will the Headmistress announce me?"

"Oh, I expect so," Professor Vector nodded. "She must; you are a new student who is not in the first year; your classmates must know about you."

Rasmus sighed and nodded. He was prepared for that, and despite any educational arrangement, school life was pretty much similar across schools- both his mother and father had attested to that. Of course his mother secretly thought that Hogwarts' environment was savage, and his father secretly thought that Athens' students were rabid; and while they both said as much to him, they never did so to each other. He smiled to himself, but what Professor Vector said then effectively erased that from his face:

"You know, Rasmus, I feel I must warn you- your father, Severus, had a… particular reputation here. When your classmates learn of your… well, existence, they will… how shall I put it? Want to know how, shall we say, _wrong_ they had been in their idea of him."

A sardonic smirk spread across Rasmus' face.

"You want to know the story of my conception, Professor? Hasn't my father's portrait told the Headmistress?"

"Oh, so you know-" the professor stopped her words before she showed just how eager she was to know that bit of gossip- and now was the only chance to legitimately ask the boy, while in the same time getting an idea about what was lying ahead in terms of handling not only the Hogwarts grapevine but also be able to predict fights and who would have them.

She cleared her throat.

"Rasmus, even if the Headmistress does know, she doesn't gossip. And I wouldn't ask you to tell me if it weren't for your own benefit; students can be quite unyielding and I will be able to help you more if I know what to stop before it happens."

Rasmus grinned mirthlessly.

"I don't think that can be helped."

"It just strikes me as odd for Severus to have lied about Lily Evans," Septima said, purposefully carelessly.

Rasmus frowned, almost scowling and his eyes were clearly saying _I know what you are doing_.

"Do you need anything more from me, professor?" he asked in a dry, sneering voice- and for that moment, he was so much like Severus Snape that Professor Vector blinked.

"N-no," she said and Rasmus got up, going to the door.

"My father, professor, did not lie about Ev-" Rasmus had begun saying, but just then the fireplace flared up, and McGonagall's frantic face appeared:

"Septima! Septima, I need you!"

The professor immediately got up and Rasmus frowned, his heart skipping a beat. What was going on?

***

Harry flew to Hogwarts on his own, leaving Ron and Hermione to follow on the eve of September 1. He told himself it was to give them the brief time to be on their own, for the Weasleys to be all together- but he knew it was all a pretense. He just wanted to be alone for forty eight hours, and not worried about what he'd say, how he'd react, and most of all, not talk about those who were lost. Harry had found that the only place where that did not happen, was oddly enough, Hogwarts- when it had no students.

Passing through the quiddich pitch to get to the main entry, he grinned, seeing Professor Bai making idle circles in it. Harry particularly liked this auror- he was completely insane, but in a logical way.

"Ah, Harry," the man said as he flew up to him the moment he saw him. "So you are going to be with us, this year?"

"Seems so, Guiren," Harry smiled back. "You know; due process."

"It'll be good to have someone like you here this year; there's a Snape in fifth year, and you can bet his eyes are not innocent."

"There's a _what_ in fifth year?" Harry cried out, almost forgetting he was airborne on a broom.

***

Nikos opened his eyes and groaned. It felt like an elephant was sitting on his head and a python was flexing around his chest.

"Godfather?" the voice anxiously asked in Greek.

"Mmmh, Roc," murmured Nikos in the same language, trying not to slur. "Doncha worry."

"How are you feeling?"

Nikos blinked again, and finally his vision cleared a little. Rasmus' eyes were searching his, and his expression was worried. Nikos smiled and patted his godson's forearm as he was leaning over his bedside.

"You look like your mum that way- don't. I'm fine. Is this the famed infirmary?"

"Yeah," Rasmus didn't sound convinced. "Godfather, what happened? Did the Arithmancy backfire?"

Nikos shook his head, and winced as his body informed him it was a bad idea.

"It worked too well," he said wryly. "Who found me?"

"McGonagall and Vector. They're going to ask questions."

"I know," Nikos sighed. "I'll answer some. We will need allies, after all."

"Allies? More allies than what Headmistress Gerakas has done, back in Athens? What did you see?"

Nikos sighed, contemplating whether to answer first and ask for some painkilling potion then, or the other way round.

"I see you're back with us, Mr. Galanos," came McGonagall's stern voice, and both he and Rasmus turned to look. McGonagall was standing next to Poppy, and she did not look at all pleased. She shot Rasmus a glance.

"Leave us, mr. Snape."

"But-" Rasmus tried to object, but had no time to.

"I said _leave us_," McGonagall's eyes flashed in a way Rasmus hadn't seen before.

"Go on, Roc," Nikos murmured and he reluctantly got up.

"You can come visit after," Poppy ventured as Rasmus dragged his steps out, but Minerva was not even listening any longer, locking glanced with the wizard on the bed.

Rasmus intended to wait at the entrance to the infirmary, maybe even listening in to what McGonagall and Nikos would be speaking about, but he had no chance to do that, either, because the moment he stepped out of there, he found himself face to face with Harry Potter.

"Snape, is it?" the green-eyed young man asked belligerently, with no intent to be cordial.

Rasmus' teeth clenched and he simply glared.

"What do you want?" he spat. "And why are you here?"

"Good questions, why don't _you_ answer them? How in all _hell_ can you be a Snape?"

"Out of my way, Potter, or I'll hex you off," Rasmus' voice became steely. His wand was already in his hand.

Harry raised his own.

"A forearm wand holster, Snape? Preparing for war, are you?" he challenge.

"I come from Greece, you _imbecile_," Rasmus resisted the urge to roll his eyes and thus break eye contact. "All students there have forearm wand holsters. Did dying and coming back complete toast your brain? Or _ehis kalo ston engefalo re –_"

Harry didn't listen to the rest of the geyser of foreign invective that expressed Rasmus' ire, as the younger boy bumped past him, school robes billowing as he still muttered and ranted in his storming through the aisle- but he wondered if perhaps jumping the younger Snape was not the smartest thing to do.

***

_And that's that! Thoughts? And don't forget to tell me what you'd like, because next chapter determines how long the story will be. _

_Also- if the way Rasmus calls Niko 'godfather' sounds alien, it's because in Greek (which he was speaking at the time) youngsters call relatives with their title/ relation type until at least coming of age. Often, if they are very intimate, much later, too. Not to call a godfather 'godfather' is considered rude or hostile in Greek etiquette. There, now you know some Greek interpersonal behavior etiquette :D _

_**Mitremlap:**__ you're welcome._

_**Duj**__: His arithmancy went very well… but as for the attack, yes and no. He definitely encountered things that could cook his brain._

_Review at will ;) _


	8. Justifying

_Hello again. Seems that while I do have a large audience, you guys are not very talkative, and I only got one opinion to my question. Oh well- means I choose and you just find out. ;) _

_So without any more ado- onwards! Chapter 8._

***

Nikos looked at McGonagall and smiled wryly, after Poppy gave him the potions required and left.

"I am sorry you had to see me that way- _and_ hospitalize me," he began. "How did you think to look for me?"

"Headmaster Snape's portrait urged me to. Apparently he knew you well enough to suspect you would need aid."

"Oy," Nikos couldn't help saying. "He won't let that drop anytime soon now- if portraits are anything like the live specimen."

"No, he won't- and nor will I. What is going on, Mr. Galanos? Why are you here, and what is it that you and Mr. Snape are not telling me?"

"Rasmus doesn't know the full scope of this," Nikos said, raising a hand. It was still shaking. "In fact I must say that I don't know the full scope of this either. I thought I did, but no."

"I think you should start telling me what you do know, and we'll go from there," Minerva said and pulled up a chair.

Nikos sighed, letting his head rest a little as he shut his eyes. The woman was right, and though he felt he could trust virtually nobody with this, he would be a hypocrite not to share the very real risks everyone in Britain- hell, everywhere there were humans- would be facing with the veterans to whom he would be trusting his godson's well being for eight months.

"A few months ago, some time around late April, my research in Arithmancy …digressed. In short, I stumbled upon a cluster of equations that… indicated evil at work- dark magic, unforgivables, the whole nine yards, all clustered around three arithmantic imprints: Severus Snape's, Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore."

"But I don't understand- all three are-"

"Deceased," Nikos nodded. "Yes. Their imprints cannot be anything but constants post mortem in arithmantic charts, because they are not alive. But what I found was that whoever was affecting those imprints, intended to use them for some sort of massive spell- and when an Arithmancer says a spell is to be massive, we mean _humongous_ in importance: a summoning, a possession, channeling- or some such thing. Do you realize the significance?"

Minerva had paled visibly.

"Someone's trying to bring back the Dark Lord," she whispered.

"Yes," Nikos said, rubbing his temples. "And it appeared that the bodies of these three people are extremely important to whatever they are doing. I came here to ensure at least one is not available, if I don't manage to find who they are, or where they are in time. Rasmus… it still pains me to say, but Rasmus is here because he is a blood relative to Severus, and he is the only one who can make his father's body unavailable to magical harvest."

Minerva gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth.

"You… you are saying Rasmus _knows_ he's here to obliterate his father's body if the need arises?"

Nikos merely stared, his eyes hard and determined.

"Rasmus knows a lot of things, Headmistress."

***

Seeing Nikos being well, despite whatever had happened during his Arithmancy spellcasting, made Rasmus able to think about his secondary- but just as important to him personally- goals. He was not looking forward to Professor Bai's test, but Erna Frideswide's, he nearly couldn't wait.

Rasmus was fascinated by Potions, but not all of them- poisons and counter poisons, healing draughts, protective and strengthening ones, and anything to 'stopper death'… exactly what had not yet been done. So of the three choices Professor Frideswide offered him, he took the one requiring him to brew any 'Standard Healing Draught' found in the advanced potions book.

Rasmus grinned to himself. He'd done something a tad bit more than that.

He knocked on the dungeons' door, and entered at the professor's call.

"Good morning professor Frideswide," he said, pulling out of his pocket a long vial of a milky-looking substance. "I have your assignment here."

The professor didn't look up, busily devoting all her attention to a small box on her dest but nevertheless she beckoned him to approach.

"Come, come, come," she said in the same brusque manner, and pushed the box so Rasmus could see the contents as soon as he walked up to her. "Look at this doll; isn't she cute?"

Rasmus smiled lopsidedly. Inside the box there was a small dark black and silver tabby of a kitten, purring luxuriously under the caress of the potions mistress' potion stained fingers.

"She's pretty, yeah," the young Slytherin admitted. Professor Frideswide glanced at him over her glasses and smiled again.

"Go ahead, she can't be spoiled enough with petting."

Rasmus shot her a questioning glance. Had anyone told her he had a weakness for cats- of any shape and size? He doubted his father's portrait would discuss such things with the teaching staff. But then the kitten rolled on its tummy in an invitation for more stroking, and he mechanically reached out to rub the fluffy belly. He nearly forgot he was holding a potion vial in his other hand until the professor asked him amiably:

"What did you decide to brew for me then, mr. Snape?"

"I decided to try for an advanced medicinal draught," Rasmus straightened up and handed her the vial. "It's not in the book, but it's a Standard Healing Draught. I chose to brew the anti-venom for poisonous snakes. Here it is."

Frideswide's eyebrows shot up to the hairline of her bushy hair. She frowned.

"The anti-venom for poisonous snakes? Mr. Snape, that is not taught in school," Frideswide's eyes were scrutinizing him closely. "You could have easily chosen something simpler- and infinitely easier to test, might I add. This potion can't be tested unless actually given to a snake bite victim."

"Well, venom fascinates me, and I wanted to truly try something interesting, like you said," Rasmus shrugged.

"Hmmm. It certainly looks to be a perfect colour," the professor agreed, taking her eyes from the student to appraise the vial in the light. She then proceeded to uncork it and sniff at it. "And there is an adequate tinge of garlic in the smell. It looks well made."

Rasmus couldn't help grinning, despite the happenings of the previous day, and straightened up a little.

"Thank you. It is, I believe."

"You do? So, would you feel confident in me testing this?" Frideswide tilted her head. "Would you bet a life on this potion you just made?"

Rasmus frowned.

"Yes. I brewed it to work."

"All right. It does seem that it would work; I've made my decision- I'll test this thing! I will award you full marks for it if it does prove effective. What is the snake of your choice?"

Rasmus winced, his heart sinking as he glanced at the box.

"Professor, you aren't going to get the cat bitten by some snake, will you? It's a kitten, I didn't make it for kittens or any mammal that small!"

"I never said it would be the kitty," Frideswide shook her head, then pulled her wand. "_Serpensortia!_"

A large snake with dark brown diamond-shaped bands flew from her wand, directly upon Rasmus' hand petting the kitten. The little animal hissed and shrunk against the furthermost corner of the box, but the copperhead paid no attention. Its fangs sank in the soft of the boy's palm, releasing the venom in his bloodstream.

Rasmus shrieked in pain, and threw his hand out, thus making the snake sail to the other side of the tables. The potions professor quickly banished it, and helped Rasmus to a chair.

"What are you waiting for?" she said evenly. "Drink your potion. Or shall I give you the one I have in my shelves?"

Pain making his eyes smart, and gritting his teeth, Rasmus brought the vial of the potion he had made to his lips, then drank it all in one swallow. Frideswide watched his hand for a good ten seconds. The potion kicked in, and with it the rooms began to swirl madly. He keeled over, letting the potion vial drop from his hand.

As if that was her cue for further action, Frideswide grabbed Rasmus, helping him sit on a chair. She placed the tip of her wand to the bite. Rasmus' breath was coming in short gasps- his whole hand felt as if it was on acidic fire, although it was not swelling or inflaming. It just kept bleeding as if his blood could not coangulate. The blood felt like molten lava on his skin. But apart from that first shriek, Snape's son had simply clenched his teeth, bent his head, and remained silent while his body shook from the shock.

"_Iatio opheos laktin,"_ murmured Frideswide softly, and Rasmus' hand relaxed in her grip as the pain left him immediately, and the room stop swirling like a dervish. He took a deep breath, sighing. His mouth was horribly dry.

"Here, drink some water. I must say I am impressed, mr. Snape," Frideswide said. "That was some quality potion- I have never seen it manage to arrest even the inflammation and swelling at the bite site, and this fast! Whatever began to develop is already receding."

"You tried to murder me!" Rasmus cried, pointing at her accusingly with the very hand that was supposed to be incapacitated.

"Don't be silly, mr. Snape. I am not in the habit of murdering students. You were never in any danger."

"Not in any danger!? That- that _thing_ was a viper!"

"A copperhead, actually. I didn't conjure the black mamba for you. In any case, I am actually a healer- a mediwitch if you like- with specialty in curative potions. I needed to test your potion's potency. You very correctly pointed out that the kitten was an inappropriate subject, and if your potion was faulty in anyway, I wouldn't be able to heal myself after ingesting it, coupled with a venomous snake bite. That left you to be the test subject of your own potion… and a good reason why this doesn't need to be done with any of the draughts in the seventh year potions book." Frideswide's expression was amiable again, but her eyes were –clinical. She waved her wand once more, and Rasmus flinched.

She chuckled.

"I only bandaged your hand, mr. Snape- we don't want blood drops all over those robes of yours," she grinned as Rasmus noticed the ring of bandage around his hand. "There then; that said, congratulations! You have made it into my advanced potions class, very impressively so. And this is your reward for all the trouble and shock I put you through," she added, and plopped the black tabby in the teenager's hands.

And though Rasmus hated to admit it, the way the kitten purred and curled in his two hands mollified him a good deal- and his success in potions did the rest.

"Mr. Snape," Frideswide called just as he was about to exit the dungeons. "For the next few days, your potion will be in effect, cleansing your blood of the venom. I took care of any discomfort, but stay away from sugar until next week, will you?"

Rasmus nodded.

"And name that kitty!" she added as he walked out, stroking the kitten. He shook his head, wondering if he should tell Nikos about the full extent of the potions test for entry in the advanced class. He flexed his hand. It was slightly warmer to his senses than before, but there was no pain, no problems in motion, nothing. And the whiteness of the thin bandage implied the bleeding had stopped. Rasmus knew from experience that viper bites put students out of commission for at least a day or two, if the potion was readily available. Frideswide had obviously not lied when she said she had had everything under control.

Rasmus found himself half liking the particular woman. He smirked to himself as the kitty sought to burrow in his wide sleeve. _Insane pineapple head._

***

_And that's that! _

_Some of the problem is already laid out, and maybe- MAYBE- you can see how Rasmus motivates himself? _

_More Harry-Rasmus-Ron-Hermione interaction tomorrow, and if I manage it, the rest of the school will flood in, too! _

_**Antra: **__Thank you very much! Actually I am a novelist by profession (one of them anyway) so I tend to write long stories. I do short stories for specific purposes, but not ones solely for entertainment… so we'll see. Probably I'll go for the long one. ;) And Harry tends to act while adrenaline is still talking. We'll see what he does in general. _

_**Imperial Dragon**__: Yes, he does, doesn't he? But that's what makes him fun (when he's not causing other characters to die left and right). _

_**Badbonita:**__ That's exactly what Harry is doing. I think he will understand how Snape felt (really understand) only now._

_And that's that! 'Till tomorrow. :)_


	9. Ranting

_Hello hello again! _

_I'm going to save all my thoughts/ comments for the end, and just jump right in._

_Onwards! Chapter 9. _

***

_**Severus Snape Had a Son!**_

_**It is fact! Severus Snape is the father of a 15 year old boy. He**__** (the boy) remained in hiding until this year in Greece, and there is speculation whether he is the illegitimate fruit of Lily Evans and the late Death-Eater-turned-spy potions master or the product of a shallow fling or even, a Death Eater raping spree within or outside British borders. **_

_**Mr. Snape- his given name is yet unknown- is already enrolled in Hogwarts, having up to now been schooled in the obscure but highly respected Athens' School of Magick. History buffs will know that over the centuries, some of the most famous or most notorious wizards and witches studied or passed through that school, which focuses on cutting edge research- even in the Dark Arts. Who knows what the younger Snape already knows, and how he intends to use it? **_

_**In truth, little else is known about this potential half-brother to Harry Potter himself (maybe even a doppelganger?), but we intend to find out. Is this new Snape carrying a grudge that will cause mayhem in the Wizarding world just a little after the defeat of You-Know-Who, or is he here on some other agenda?**_

_**Soon, an article will shed all the light necessary into yet one more of Severus Snape's secrets- perhaps the most sinister of them all.**_

Rasmus growled and crushed the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ into a ball which combusted under the ire of the young teenager.

"_Harry bloody Potter's brother!?_" he screamed at the top of his lungs at Nikos, who winced, sitting on a stool at a safe distance in the class where Rasmus was expecting Professor Bai to come and test him. "What the _hell_ !? Harry bloody barn-owl's _brother_!?"

"Half-brother," Nikos amended. "Roc, we knew this could- would, rather- happen once you came to Britain."

"Yes, guess so. But argh! I want to ring the neck of whatever filthy little tart-" Rasmus' fingers were demonstrating how he would throttle the reporter when a voice from the wall interrupted him.

"Language, son."

Rasmus' hands dropped like logs at his sides, but his brooding semi-crouched stance did not change. Snape's portrait sighed.

"If you act in this manner, you will be giving them what they want. And by the way; if I were alive, I would have words with you about not telling me what you have come here to do- _or_, that you haven't done it yet. What are you waiting for?" Snape demanded, while shooing a gaggle of dancing nymphs from the painting he had invaded. He glared at Nikos, too: "Or what are_ you_ waiting for?"

"Severus, we won't perform the ceremony unless there's no other way to ensure that whatever they are doing won't be done, primarily because we also want to find out _who_ these people are- an arithmantic imprint is like an unidentified fingerprint if you don't know whom it matches- and if your body is gone, we won't have any more bait."

"Isn't Dumbledore's body enough bait?" Snape's portrait sneered.

"If your body is obliterated, they will probably switch triads anyway, Severus," Nikos sighed. "They won't be targeting Dumbledore's body either- maybe not even Grindelwald's. They can't know that anyone but them knows."

Rasmus sighed, twisting his wand in his grip.

"And anyway, father- I… I'd like not to have to do something like that to you, if I can avoid it," he muttered softly. Snape sighed and made a half-move that he seemed to hold back as he folded his hands vexedly.

"Oh, son," he said softly, almost tenderly. "You know well that whatever is left in the ground is not me. I am not my flesh. Nobody is."

"Snape! What's the meaning of this!?" Harry burst through the door, wand in one hand and newspaper in the other. "You did this, didn't you? What are you up to, are you trying to sully my name?"

"What did you just say?" Rasmus' voice rose sharply. "_Sully_ your name? you _apologize_ for that, Potter, or I will _really_ make you!"

Nikos remained silent, and at the sideline, and the portrait didn't move. Harry's eyes were alive with gleaming anger, and his cheeks flushed with adrenaline as he sneered.

"I am the victim in this, and you want _me_ to say I'm sorry? You're just like your father!" he brandished the newspaper.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Rasmus bellowed while Harry was still talking, and the force he put behind the spell was so much that not only was Harry disarmed, he was thrown backwards. Rasmus charged him, fists flying. It was all he could do, for Harry to keep him at bay. He was not used to close combat, and the muggle way- duels with wands was what he expected within Hogwarts.

Professor Bai rushed in, hearing the racket, and his eyes widened as he took in the scene.

"Unhand Potter, Snape!" he yelled, adding to the racket, but as he took out his wand to break up the fight, Nikos slid in between, wand at the ready, a dangerous grin on his face.

"Why don't we let the lads work this out, Mr. Bai?" he said in the amiable manner he usually employed, but with an iron edge to it. Bai frowned.

"I don't have time for this," he said and tried to hex Nikos away, only to find his spell bounce off a shield harmlessly.

"Well, I say you do. You don't want to have your spells bounce off while those two are having it out. Best is to watch- and maybe learn something about my godson," the greek added quickly. Bai's jaw seemed to twitch, but he nevertheless glanced over Nikos' shoulder and noticed it was a fist fight, not a wand fight, and thus not too deadly. He lowered his wand.

Harry was giving as good as he was getting. He was stronger than Rasmus, but also slower than him, and while his blows were apparently impacting more, they often missed or glanced off.

"Stop it!" Harry choked out when at some point they were in an impasse, each grabbing to the other, Rasmus by the hair, Harry by the ear, both rolling on the floor completely ignoring the two adults in the room.

"You-apologize!" Rasmus tugged at Harry's hair. Harry retaliated with a knee to the midsection to throw Rasmus off. Rasmus doubled over, but he got on his knees anyway. "Apologize! Isn't it enough that you- you _let him die, you bastard?_"

Harry's eyes widened a little and he took a step forward.

"_Accio_ wand!" he snarled. His wand flew in his hand.

Rasmus' dropped into his palm as well, but he still talked.

"You think I didn't put two and two together, about how he died, even from the gossip columns? You think I wouldn't _know_ you let him die? You let him bleed out, didn't you? Did you jeer over him, too? Did you show him just how _glad_ you were he was out of your hair, Potter?"

Harry simply stared, his expression horrified. Rasmus' eyes were pained, and slowly becoming red-rimmed, but his face was almost impassive, his lip curled.

"You know what? You can stuff your apology- if I have to beat it out of you, it's as good as a bad penny. Kind of like you."

Harry was still speechless, even as Rasmus once more bumped past him and to the exit.

"W-wait," he called out, and his voice was chagrinned, but Rasmus had already stormed off.

"I… I didn't – i…" Harry glanced awkwardly at Nikos and Bai.

Nikos sighed and put away his own wand.

"Don't worry, kid," he said. "He calms down easily- you can tell him then. Mr. Bai-"

"Professor," Bai said mechanically, and didn't seem to be completely focused.

"I understand your testing appointment was disrupted, and the duel was not exactly magical. You did, however, get a sample of what will be happening, at least at first, around Rasmus. You want to consider if you want that taking place in the advanced practice classes," Nikos said, and then took leave to go find his godson.

In the silence of the room, the portrait finally spoke up.

"Played just like a Potter, Potter," the sneer made Harry's skin crawl and his heart burden with guilt.

***

"Mental, I tell you! Snape, a son? I bet it was that weird bloke we saw at the book store," Ron said, shaking his head as he and Hermione walked towards the Gryffindor common room. The Hogwarts Express hadn't yet arrived, but it was expected by sundown.

"Probably," Hermione said thoughtfully, then bit her lip a little anxiously. "Oh goodness! Do you suppose Harry talked to him?"

"Why would anyone want to talk to Snape's _son_?" Ron snickered, and Hermione hit him up the back of his head, huffing.

"Will you grow up! You act as if you don't know what Snape did for all of us! For Harry! You know how much he fought to protect everyone from the Carrows, from Voldemort! The least we can do is give his son a bit of slack!"

Ron winced.

"Okay, okay. I know. It's just force of habit, I guess," Ron said.

"I think it's obscene," Hermione said angrily.

"Oy. I guess it's tough being Snape's son- Skeeter is virtually saying he's evil in this drivel."

Hermione scowled.

"She certainly hasn't made things easier. Imagine that trainful of kids arriving all ready to see Snape's evil Greek spawn," she scoffed.

"Especially if he's actually Harry's half-brother," Ron added.

"Oh no. Harry would have read that allegation too, wouldn't he?"

"Guess," Ron frowned, wondering why she was suddenly so worried.

Hermione grabbed his hand.

"Come on! We must get to Harry, now!"

"What is it?" Ron asked, but he did follow Hermione's lead and broke to a sprint.

"Don't you get it?" Hermione panted. "Snape having a son from _Harry's mum_ would mean that the Daily Prophet said-"

"That Snape- oh _gross!_ We gotta find Harry!" Ron agreed, turning a slight shade of green.

***

_And that's that! If you recall that Skeeter had agreed not to do an article on Rasmus before a certain deal, you remember correctly. _

_Wizarding press is lovely, eh? (and any press, really) _

_Oh, by the way! I was doodling while waiting for an appointment, and Rasmus came out. I haven't sketched in AGES, but since he looks pretty much like I imagine him, I thought I'd share: http:/ /i748 . photobucket . com / albums / xx125/ ignus_ramus / rasmus1 . jpg _

_Does he look like how you imagine him? (probably not, so carry on and forget you saw that)_

_**Duj: **__That's true. But then again I guess it's not a standard hazard. _

_**Moira of the mountain:**__ He is his father's son, and his mother, too, was a potions mistress, so he grew up loving potion making. _

_Review at will! See you tomorrow._


	10. Amending

_Hello everyone! _

_I have nothing to say except this speed writing after work is very stress relieving- fanfiction always is, as opposed to fiction writing. One is generally more anxious around one's own characters, I suppose. I know I am. :) _

_So, lessee what happens with our boys! After all, Harry, too, is still a boy. Though I bet everyone, he included, forgets._

_Onwards! Chapter 10._

_*** _

Hermione skidded to a halt outside the pink lady, seeing Harry sitting there somewhat morosely, wand twirling idly in his hand. He looked up at his friends approaching and smiled a thin, embarrassed smile.

"Hey… I just couldn't remember the password," he said. Hermione bit her lip.

"What's happened, Harry?"

"Did you kill Snape's son?" Ron added, equally anxiously, but it made Harry chuckle.

"No; not for lack of trying though."

Hermione hissed and stepped forward, pulling Harry up by the elbow.

"Why don't you shape up, remember that password, and tell us what happened? I am sure we can fix it."

"I bet he just read the paper," Ron snorted.

"Yeah, I did," Harry said, reluctantly getting up. He did remember the password, of course- he just didn't want to go in the common room. "Lion cub."

Hermione followed him inside, and with a glance she ensured that Ron would generally keep silent.

There was general silence as they sat down in the common room, and Harry knit his fingers, then he sighed and decided it would be even more horrible of him to have Hermione pull it out of him tooth by tooth.

"Look, I've been a total git to him. I just; I don't know what happened. I read that stupid article, and it was as if all the blood went to my brain."

"Why don't you tell us everything," Hermione pressed patiently, and Harry did, leaving nothing out- not even the first time he confronted Rasmus upon his arrival to Hogwarts.

Hermione made a face and Ron winced.

"Gosh, Harry! That is so _unlike_ you! Are you _sure_ he didn't provoke you with anything? Or anyone else?"

"No, Rasmus did not provoke me at all. I wish I could say he did, but he didn't," Harry shook his head. He passed his hand over his face, pushing his glasses upwards towards his forehead. "I was worse than Malfoy with you, 'Mione. Even with what Guiren said, I shouldn't have just rushed him."

"What did he say?" Ron asked cautiously. "Can't have been good. Doesn't he blame Snape for his family?"

"Yeah, he does," Harry nodded. "And well, we spent a lot of time blaming Snape together whenever we happened to meet. And well, he did say that Snape was here with a fishy plan, a dangerous plan…"

"Is he?" Hermione asked.

"How should I know? Probably not- but there is some Greek guy around that is protecting him, who had been in the infirmary two days ago from some mysterious attack- the house elves told me." Harry bit his lip.

"And he really went at you with his fists? No wands?" Ron asked, and he seemed to have trouble believing it. Harry shrugged with a nearly sheepish grin.

"Yeah. He just disarmed me and tackled. And then he said he didn't want my apology if he had to beat it out of me."

"Are you _sure_ he's in Slytherin?" Ron exclaimed.

"Ron!"

"Sorry, force of habit," Ron grinned nonetheless.

Harry grinned too, but then he sighed again.

"And do you know what rankles even more?"

"That bit the paper said about Snape and you mum?" Hermione ventured.

"Yeah- that's when I saw red. I still don't quite know why, or why Snape's son makes me so… so _nervous_… but then I realized something."

"What's that?"

"You know the article says he's 15?"

Hermione nodded knowledgeably.

"You mean that he can't have been your mum's. He was born after- well- her death."

"Yes, well after. The thing is, I saw that immediately, and knew the impossibility of the fact. _That's_ what made me mad, and I didn't stop to think there was probably no way Snape's son could have done it. I didn't stop to think that it would probably be Skeeter's way to force Rasmus to give an interview to deny her lies and give information he wouldn't otherwise give her. I just… I just _chose_ to go vent on Snape's son as an easy target."

His friends didn't speak, but Harry felt it in the air that they agreed this was what he had done, and that they didn't approve or justify it any more than he was doing. He got up slowly.

"I played it… like a Potter. Potter-the-bully-of-Snape… all over again."

"Hell, _no_, Harry!" Ron erupted. "You can never be like that!"

"I thought not," Harry nodded. "But now I see that I can, and I got to work to stop it. Or I will be a bloody hypocrite, and I won't be able to look at myself again."

He got up.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, but made no move to stop him. Unlike what many thought, war had changed them, but had done little to forge their personalities while they were experiencing it. It was now, while they lived in its aftermath, that the forging was taking place.

"I'm going to go find Snape, and let him pound me if he wants," Harry said. "And say I'm sorry if I manage."

Hermione grinned and Ron winced, but kept quiet as his more-than-girlfriend told him with another glance.

***

Minerva growled, pacing in her office.

"That- that toad! That- _dunce!_ There should be a law about reporters such as her," she shook her fist at the portraits.

"Well, Minerva, as far as I can see, there is only one way you can do damage control," Albus said calmly. Snape's portrait frame was empty, and the other headmasters as usual did not take initiative to speak.

"Tell me," McGonagall sighed, rubbing her temple. She was too old for this, wasn't she? Hadn't she earned an easy chair by a fireplace and some tall fire-whiskey based cocktail?

"You announce the boy, and make it impressive," Dumbledore grinned, apparently very pleased with himself. "Also, why don't you keep that godfather of his around, at least for the while the whole trouble with our bodies is cleared up? He obviously hasn't told you even half of what he already knows."

"You think so?" Minerva frowned. "If I ask him to stay in Hogwarts, would you manage to learn more?"

"If not me, then Severus most definitely."

"That brat is lucky I am dead, and unable to Kedavra him for a third time- they say three times lucky, maybe he'd just _stay dead!_"

Minerva wondered if the way Snape banged the door to the back of his painted background could ever be the reason the frame trembled ever so slightly. She sighed as she heard the potion master's rant, and wondered why things could not just remain quiet, like they had been for two years. _Because this is Hogwarts, and it's got back both a Potter and a Snape._

***

Rasmus had had to get out of the castle itself to avoid his father's portrait, and it was hard work losing Nikos, too. The man never left him alone if he thought he could talk him out of a mood. And Rasmus didn't _want_ to be out of his mood. It felt good to be mad, and he was sorry he didn't stay in the same room with Potter until one of them was unconscious or hexed into the fetal position.

The courtyard was empty, and already leaves were falling into it, heralding the Autumn much earlier than he'd been used to in Greece. In Greece, September was still summertime. For a brief pang of longing, he missed the country, his two friends back in school and his mother. Mother always made everything better- she explained everything, even how his father did not love her _that way_, and how he had come along, and why he should feel good about it.

But after her death, there was nobody to do that for him. Nikos tried, but it didn't always work. Not like with her.

He sank down on the steps against a pillar and swallowed. And it wasn't even just complicated school business. Rasmus knew that chances were he _would_ have to- no, he didn't want to think about that.

"I'm sorry, Rasmus Snape."

Rasmus glanced up with a frown, and his wand was in his hand without thinking. What?

"What d'you want? Another wallop?" he snarled, slowly getting up to face Harry Potter again. Harry shook his head.

"No. But if you want you can go ahead. I just- know it was a rotten thing to tell you, when we both know only the reporter's to blame. I'm sorry."

Rasmus tilted his head.

"A Potter never apologises," he said warily. "They just keep yelling at the top of their voices that they're being treated wrong."

"I'm not like _that_ Potter that your father knew; and I guess… well, actually, I've seen, that you're not like the Snape I knew."

Rasmus scowled again and Harry hurried to amend, raising his hands:

"No, no, I mean, you certainly do look every bit a Snape, and you definitely have his glares and scowls. I just mean that you're …better than he was forced to be," Harry thought furiously to put things in the right context. He wasn't very good at it, and the Snape boy seemed to look at him with an even more curious glance.

"My father was amazing to you, considering what everyone expected him to be. He took more Cruciatus than he had to, just so that you could strut around and experiment," Rasmus' voice was accusing.

Harry sighed and felt at a loss. His best shot was not very fruitful.

"Your father is probably the bravest man I ever knew," he said without thinking, and he blinked, because it felt _true_- and for the first time he felt good talking about Snape. Rasmus was still suspicious, but he wasn't talking, so Harry tested this feeling again. "Yes; what I saw in his memories, everything he took on his shoulders- and not once flinching or messing up- it completely blew me away. Nothing can hold a candle to being willing to die without vindication."

Rasmus pushed his wand up his sleeve again, slowly.

"Do you mean all this, or is it bogus?"

"I definitely mean it," Harry nodded. "I'm not usually an ass like you've seen so far. It's just…" he exhaled in frustration, unable to express what he wanted adequately.

"It's just war?" Rasmus offered him help unexpectedly. Harry nodded.

"Yeah- and guilt, I guess. I felt- guilt, when I saw you. I did leave without getting him to help."

"Well…" Rasmus put his hands in his pockets, and contemplated if he wanted to let Potter off the hook so easily. His father certainly wouldn't have in his place… but he wasn't his father, and keeping a fight without need tired him. And he knew his father well, pretenses or not. He had known all along those long seven years, that Severus Snape had ached to like Lily's son, and yet had found he could not. _Probably because Potter never walked up to him to say he's sorry in so many words._

Harry was still looking at him, those green eyes that had so haunted his father now trained on him hopefully.

"Well, I guess I knowingly accused you for something you probably couldn't have done much about. Venom to the carotid, and from a snake like Nagini- I'm amazed he lived long enough to give you memories."

Harry swallowed. Talk of the Shrieking Shack was still too loaded for him to feel good, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Yeah… yeah, so was I."

And in the short silence that ensued, where Harry and Rasmus simply stood opposite each other, glancing at each other uncertainly, Harry too put his hands in his pockets.

"So… there will be the welcome feast tonight, and everything, and soon you'll be making Slytherin friends, but until then, d'you want to come meet Hermione and Ron?"

"Uh…" Rasmus took a step back. "Maybe… maybe later, Potter. Yeah; later will be great."

Harry nodded.

"Okay; later."

And they simply walked away quietly in different directions.

***

_And that's that! Not too much action today, but I hope you like it anyway. Harry is not a malevolent git, but he doesn't possess restraint often, right? I am always interested about how war can affect people- and I think in Harry's case, it would be more of a willingness to clean up his own mess instead of being let off the hook for it. If that makes any sense. _

_**Gracesnape**__: I could tell you where I'm taking it… but that would spoil the fun. Heh heh! _

_**BetaforRent:**__ Argh, yes, he does look a tad older than 15, doesn't he? We'll pretend it's from his 7__th__ year then. Arithmancy parts are not yet to be explained, but they will be. And yes, there is an obvious error in calculations, but Skeeter is simply aiming to stir the waters in an unfriendly manner for Rasmus. I don't think many will think to do the math when 'half-brother to Harry Potter' is being dropped on gossiper's laps. ;) _

_**Lupus Ignis:**__ Yes, exactly! I wanted that to come across. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too. _

_And that's that! Till tomorrow!_


	11. Introductions

_Hey hey again! _

_This is later than I usually write up, and with the vacations ebbing (seeing as the story just became double the size I was going for) I feel I need to warn you that maybe sometimes I won't have the sheer time to just type up the day's update. It will simply mean that it will be there the next day. _

_That said, onwards! Chapter 11. _

***

After that decidedly odd second encounter with Potter, Rasmus felt he needed to go somewhere where the weirdness would ease up until the evening, and away from everyone that would want to have any sort of 'talk' with him. Therefore he nearly ran to the Slytherin dorms.

They were still empty of students, but he could hear shuffling of some early arrivals in dorms other than his. He sighed, running his hands through his hair and approached his bed. The black and silver tabby was sleeping there, curled up on his pillow. He rolled his eyes.

"Betty!" he scolded in greek as he picked the kitten up, and sat over the covers and against the wall, one of his long legs dangling off the edge. "How many times must I say not on my pillow?"

Betty didn't seem at all phased and simply purred with a distinct cat-grin. Rasmus half smiled.

"You will go right back to the pillow once I let you down, won't you?"

The kitten just let her head sink back to expose the throat fully to be scratched, which Rasmus promptly did.

"You trust so much, and so easily. How do you expose your softest part without any fear? How aren't you afraid that the hand in which you're lying won't crush you?" he murmured thoughtfully. "I wish I had it as simple as you, Betty."

A house elf appeared with a crack at that point, scaring Betty in his sleeve.

"For you, Mr. Snape. I's bring it."

"Thank you," Rasmus said as he took the letter the elf was brandishing. It read _Rasmus O. Snape_ outside. Rasmus unfolded it.

_Mr. Snape, _

_While my demand for the extra assignment has not yet been met, I feel I have witnessed enough to admit you, on probation, in my advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class. I expect your assignment to be ready for the first practical of the term. _

_Signed, _

_Professor Guiren Bai_

Rasmus wanted to feel good about this, but somehow he felt apprehensive, cautious. Bai made no effort to hide his dislike of him, and Rasmus had in all actuality not expected to be admitted in the advanced class. Why had the man done it when he had excellent excuse not to?

He chewed on the inside of his lip thoughtfully, watching Betty drop down from his sleeve and make her way to his pillow again. _And I still have no clue what Antahiga is._

***

McGonagall was getting ready for the welcoming feast- Flitwick to receive the first years. The train would be there in less than an hour. This was one of _those_ feasts- imbued in tension of some sort, as heralds of uncertain years. That had not been the case between wars and in the past two years. Minerva sighed, inspecting herself in the mirror. She was wearing dark green with only token tartan frills at the collar and her sleeves, and pinned a silver and golden brooch right under her throat. She breathed in. This was the most austere she could make it, and the stern black witch hat would have to be sufficient for looming effect.

"Most excellent, Minerva!" Albus said cheerily as she entered her office to take what she needed. _I need some more courage._ "Green really becomes you."

"For a Gryffindor," Severus smirked.

"Oh, shut it," Minerva said crisply. "You are so amused already it's positively obscene."

There was the telltale grounding of the gargoyle below and McGonagall took her place behind her desk just in time for Nikos to walk in. He was smiling, as always, and there was no trace of his scrape with brain damage only a couple of days ago.

"Good evening, Headmistress," he said, and raised up a letter. "I was rather surprised to get this note from you now. Aren't you busy with the first day hubbub?"

"I was, up to now, but half an hour before everything starts, it pretty much is calm- like the calm before the storm. Please, take a seat for a moment, Mr. Galanos."

Nikos complied. Minerva forced herself to do the same and didn't feel like offering him tea just yet.

"Mr. Galanos, I want to discuss something with you- make you an offer, if you like, that you can think about for this week."

"An offer?"

"Yes. I want to offer you a chance to practice your Arithmancy here in Hogwarts. You will find our library to be more than sufficient compared to the ones in London."

Nikos' eyebrows raised.

"I see. I am much obliged, Headmistress, but can I ask what you want of me in return?"

The abrupt, cut-to-the-chase approach of the man took Minerva aback for a second. Usually people were not so forward. Nikos smiled again.

"I'm sorry; I'm one for clear deals. Where I come from, we say that good understandings made friendships last; and I want to befriend you."

McGonagall felt stiffer. Rarely did people hold her glance steadily, too. In fact, nearly nobody did with such earnest. It made her uneasy to see this wizard be so at ease doing it.

"Oh, I see," she raced to say. "Then, I will be forthcoming as well. Primarily, I understand you are Rasmus' godfather and he appears quite attached to you; should your Arithmancy prove …dangerous to you again, I would like to feel we will be quick to save you."

Nikos nodded thoughtfully.

"And you also want to keep an eye on me."

"That too," Minerva said boldly. Nikos seemed to grin in satisfaction only then.

"I think we can definitely come to an understanding, Headmistress. Thank you. Shall we discuss the details tomorrow?"

"9 o' clock," Minerva nodded and got up along with him. Nikos winced a little, but agreed, bowed, and left the office. Minerva stared after him.

"He's dangerous."

She blinked and flinched, then glanced at Snape's portrait. "Hm?"

"Galanos. If you're not careful, he'll smooth-talk you into being a test-subject for jinxes, and you'll be convinced you volunteered," the potions master smirked. "You've been warned."

"Sounds like you speak from experience, Severus," Minerva cut back and rushed out of the office, feeling mysteriously ill at ease.

***

Reading always relaxed him, and this new novel from the stock he had bought from muggle bookstores in Athens and London was engrossing. Rasmus loved a good whodunit, and this one was still unpredictable. Betty on his lap, book in his hand, Rasmus managed to push away the encounter with Potter, Bai's admission and the ever-approaching hoard of students that had already met him through a vile libelous piece of excrement that passed for journalism until a trunk thudded heavily next to his own bed. He looked up.

Another boy was looking at him oddly. He was red haired and blue eyed, tilting his head like a human owl.

"You're Snape, ne?" he said.

"And you are?" Rasmus shut the book slowly. Betty didn't even wake up.

"I'm Ryan Finn- fifth year, like you," he said. "There's a piece for ye in the paper, y'know."

"Don't." Rasmus' voice was low-key but warning. Finn grinned and shrugged.

"Who believes that drivel anyway? But ye _are_ Snape's son, eh?"

"Yes. I'm Rasmus." He watched the red head closely. He seemed to be eager to make a good impression and Rasmus wondered what for.

"Good to meet ye," he said.

He lingered a little, but then he turned his back to Rasmus and started fixing his bed.

"That bed there, you're sitting on, it belongs to Baldric Hodd; he always takes the bed in the corner," he said as he was pulling out things from his trunk.

"Well, it's mine now," Rasmus said firmly. "And if he needs to be convinced, then I'll oblige."

Finn grinned again as he sat on the bed.

"That would be great! Hodd is an astounding arse, and after Snape stopped being Head, there isn't anyone to stop him, ya know?"

"Hm," Rasmus eyed the rest of the boys entering warily, and they glanced at him back without approaching him.

***

The welcoming feast began in splendor. These years there were more young students than older or senior ones; the war had culled so many, hurt so many, driven away so many that the higher classes were populated by only a few dozens of students in each senior year. There would be a few years yet until the youngsters grew and Hogwarts became properly populated again.

But this year enjoyed an enthusiastic start, because the Golden Trio was back for their graduating year. They were sitting at the Gryffindor table now, with adequate empty space for the new first years after they sorted, much more quiet than their previous raucous selves, although that was not the case for the second and third year Gryffindors. Harry raised his glass at her, and she nodded back.

Her eyes then flitted to the Slytherin table- it was the one with the fewest students above fourteen years of age, though last year it had received a good number of new students. This year, everyone was staring or at least stealing glances towards the table, and Slytherin students themselves were extremely quiet- except, again, the second years. Rasmus was sitting with Finn, who was talking without requiring much participation from Snape's son. Seeing how he was at a little distance from the rest of the students, how his expression was closed and his eyes extremely alert and taking in everything- to the point McGonagall was certain the boy had noted all the potential exits in case of need- Minerva remembered with a pang, how she had seen Severus sit there, like that, alone with his thoughts when he was that age. The only difference was that Finn was talking Rasmus' ear off, and that Rasmus was not trying to shut him up.

She snapped to attention again as the Sorting began, and quickly about two hundred students were sorted into their Houses. It was time for her opening speech. She got up and approached the podium.

"Another year begins, and I welcome you all to Hogwarts," she began primly and rather laconically. She hated giving speeches with little purpose than just giving the speech. "As every year, let us raise our glasses to all those who fell so that we, and especially you, the students, can enjoy free learning and protection from the Dark Arts," she went on, raising her own goblet that was still in her hand. Flitwick read the list of all the Second War victims, and for each one, the students repeated it while raising their goblets. It was a tradition that she had began, mainly as a way to ensure that everyone who was not as celebrated as they should be for the heroism in the war, would be in the minds of the new generation, that would go on to live.

"This year, we welcome Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley back for their finishing year; let them be examples to you on the importance of learning."

She waited for the gushing applause and the wild cheering that naturally ensued and held for a good three seconds. Then she called for attention again.

"And finally, we welcome the son of one of the most important heroes of the war, the one man who walked his path alone and gave the hardest fight so that we could live. We welcome Severus Snape's son, Rasmus Octavian Snape, to Hogwarts. Feel privileged that he is among us, for he is not only the son of Severus Snape, but also Aello Berenike Galanou, one of the most brilliant potion mistresses of our time who discovered some of the potions that saved countless lives during war and peace. Make him feel that Hogwarts is as much a home to him, as it is to you."

There was a lingering note of pause in the Great Hall, and Rasmus felt so embarrassed he nearly cast a disillusionment spell on himself. Was that sort of thing going to help him in this school?

Then someone applauded, and quickly the applause- polite, a little cramped- spread across the tables.

"Bet you can brew love potions," Finn nudged him as the clapping died down and Slytherin classmates looked at him even more now.

"I'd sooner brew Stink-Bomb Potion," Rasmus growled with too much ire for what was said. But Finn was not phased at all. Instead he piped up to some more Slytherins:

"Hey! Snape here says he knows how to make Stink-Bombs!"

And as if that was the perfect ice-breaker, more than just Finn began talking to him.

***

_And that's that! It's extremely late here and I don't have the time to read it over (again). Next time we move on with the bad guys and classes! _

_Also: __**THANK YOU for all those reviews! Keep them coming :)**_

_**Duj**__: so true! I think he won't feel he's in a position to bully Snape now, either, unless he admits to being a willing git. _

_**Sindie:**__ I don't intend to, and thanks for reading!_

_**RebeccaRoy:**__Hey, you called him with his pet name! Only Nikos calls him that. Hee hee!_

_**Very Small Prophet:**__ Yes, I agree on the issue of big hearted Slytherins. But Minerva would definitely want to claim Severus as hers now. As for Severus making love to another woman- possibly he could, but he doesn't seem to have been interested in something like that. At least that was my impression. _

_And that's that! Till tomorrow!_


	12. Abrasions

_Hey everyone! Today I'm writing with silly music. Let's see what that does to today's chapter!_

_Without anymore ado, onwards! Chapter 12. _

***

The Snape boy was a disappointment.

Everyone in fifth year felt the first week was decidedly anti-climactic regarding Snape-Version-Two, as some of the Slytherins referred to Rasmus in whispers, because he didn't set Gryffindor House on fire or terrorize Hufflepuffs or harrow Potter. He didn't even have the decency of dressing in all black and his hair was not greasy. In all accounts, Rasmus Snape was a very typical bookworm of a student who spent good amounts of time in the library, did not seek to lose or earn points and generally was a silent constant in the classroom, watching but not overly anxious to show off his knowledge. But it only took two days for his reputation as a hopeless bookworm to be firmly established.

"Man, how can you study so much?" Finn told him with a slight tone of disgust when Rasmus checked out a stack of books on Runes- the one advanced class that did not require him to perform extra to get in- with the same ease others pick magazines. Rasmus arched an eyebrow.

"I was under the impression that this is what a student _does_. You know; as his _job_."

"Child labour," Finn grinned. "Utterly rotten thing."

Rasmus shot him a suspicious glance.

"Are you going to ask me to right an injustice and save you from slaving while you're not yet eighteen?"

Finn's grin widened even more.

"Will ya, Snapey lad?"

"Snapey? Just for that, you're on your own," Rasmus smirked and walked out, with Finn stammering and trailing after him.

But the apparent calm and quiet-seeking demeanor that lasted for the entire week changed abruptly on the first Defense against the Dark Arts practical. Practicals were in essence a new thing for DADA, as they involved active application of everything the students had learnt in the classroom- another thing McGonagall introduced to Hogwarts curriculi, with the full cooperation of Professor Bai, who was all for hands on experience.

Finn had been very queasy when Rasmus consulted his class schedule and he saw the words Advanced DADA Practical in his friend's sheet.

"Do you _know_ what the Advanced Practical is, man?" Finn shivered and Rasmus smirked.

"It's a Practical and it's Advanced?"

"I'm not kidding ye! You know Damien, from last year, spent a week in the infirmary after just one of those DADA Practicals?"

"Afraid for me, Ryan?" Rasmus folded the schedule and put it back in his bag with a smile, trying to convince himself he was as self confident and as suave as he was projecting.

"Ye bet I'm afraid for ye!" Finn snorted indignantly. "If you're not available for studying, I won't get any done!"

"You _could_ try studying on your own," Rasmus grinned, pausing where their routes were branching off.

Finn feigned shivering in horror.

"Don't _say_ things like that! You walk out o' there on yer own two feet," he said as he walked away, pointing at his friend for a while before he trotted off to his own class. Rasmus sighed and grinned a little. Finn was tagged to be Slytherin's pain in the neck, and everyone was pushing him away, but Rasmus mysteriously liked this perpetual gabbler and his apparent innate levity- and his rather obvious manipulations in shirking work. He came across as a rather weak wizard, too- barely a squib and that didn't help much in Slytherin House; Rasmus wondered if he befriended him, and vice versa, as a mutual defense against the distance everyone else was showing them. His father's portrait had warned him that Slytherins wouldn't necessarily like him, considering he had helped kill or incarcerate more than half of the Slytherin family dominant males or females.

_Focus, Rasmus! This is Bai's class._ _And you still don't know what Antahiga is._

He sighed and steeled himself. Whatever the case, he would not let Bai make a fool out of him, nor anyone else. He pushed open the large wooden door to the Practicals classroom. It was large, made of forged-iron arches and glass, much like the greenhouses, but otherwise completely empty of any furniture, desks or stools.

Inside, there were Slytherin and Gryffindor students- Rasmus' heart sank. There was Harry bloody Potter in the room, and Weasley and Granger, and of his own house, there was nobody who had at all looked at him with an acceptable glance. Finn had immediately informed him who was of Death Eater families and who was not, and at least seven of the twenty Slytherins in this Practical were so.

He scowled, knowing well not to appear hesitant or weak with the sort of crowd that immediately turned their eyes to him. The Gryffindors went quiet, and of the Slytherins and tall, well built girl took a few threatening steps towards him.

"What'd you want here, Snape? Lost your way?"

"Save it, Gaunt," Rasmus growled, glaring daggers at her. "This is my class, too."

"Bai probably wants him for a live target- you know, when he performs the curses," scoffed another student- Gryffindor, this time.

"Or just to extract revenge," Gaunt grinned, tossing her straight dark hair back. "Since you know, your esteemed father killed his entire family- and screwed up his face, too."

"Well, we _all_ would like revenge for what Snape did to our families, _don't_ we?" another Slytherin said, closing in around Rasmus.

But Rasmus whipped out his wand and with a hiss of a spell under his breath, flame erupted like a serpent and fell in a wide circle around him, causing the approaching Slytherins to jump backwards.

"Why don't you just settle down, little snakes?" Rasmus drawled belligerently.

"Order! Mr. Snape, 10 points from Slytherin for casting aggressive spells before class begins," came Professor Bai's voice. The fiery circle died out as Rasmus raised his hands, wand still in his right. The Slytherins glared, and Rasmus saw Harry looking at him thoughtfully while Ron gaped and Hermione was furiously talking to some of the other Gryffindors.

Professor Bai walked in between the standing students and looked around.

"I will not have petty strife in my class. If anyone so much as dares singe the other while not performing tasks, they will not only be expelled from Practicals. Nor will they be able to brag about it at dinner. Mark my words." His voice was quiet- like creeping death and it made everyone uneasy.

The professor let the silence linger for a moment, then gestured for the students to take places opposite him, and they did.

"Now, you have all obviously noticed that Mr. Snape is among us, though he is in fifth year. Obviously he believes he can handle this class- or maybe even more," Bai leered, his eyes never leaving Rasmus', his wand tapping his palm impatiently. "He has been gracious enough to offer us a demonstration of his- _astounding_ abilities, most likely courtesy of his crafty father."

The blood seemed to rush to Rasmus' cheeks as his eyes gleamed with anger, and Bai smiled in satisfaction, seeing how easy it was to wind the boy up. He took a few steps back and gestured with his wand for Rasmus to come forward.

"Now I know you seem to prefer more savage, _muggle_ ways of beating victims into pulp, but this is a _magic_ defense class; therefore you will display for us how you intend to counter the curse I forwarned you several days before I would hit you with. Tell me, Mr. Snape, do you know the countercurse for Antahiga?"

At the sound of the word, Harry frowned and tried to speak up.

"Sir, Antahiga-"

"Quiet, Potter, or I will take points from Gryffindor as well!"

"But _sir_!" Harry's eyes were desperately trying to catch Bai's glance as if to communicate something to him, but Bai simply snarled:

"5 points from Gryffindor, Potter! Keep silent! Mr. Snape."

Rasmus breathed in, feeling his stomach become a coil right under his lungs.

"No, sir."

Bai tilted his head, eyebrows raised.

"No? How surprising. Didn't your father's portrait tell you what it is?"

"I am not in the habit of going to the key to get the answers for a test, sir," Rasmus threw back at him, somehow managing to keep his voice respectful while he sassed.

"I see. Would you like to be excused from this class then? Otherwise you will be obliged to take the test, and fail."

"If I fail, then I'll leave," Rasmus grit his teeth, trying to keep his face neutral. Judging from Bai's face, he wasn't very effective.

"Sir, Antahiga isn't-" Harry tried to cut in again, but Bai waved his wand and silenced him.

"Very well," Bai said eagerly and pulled back his wand. Rasmus sprung into action as the professor already began making wand moves in rapid sequences, beginning his cast. He pointed his wand to the professor and made a jabbing motion:

"_Epineph Caro!_" he shouted.

Nothing seemed to happen, and the professor completed his wandless move, but then his eyes widened. He seemed to lose his concentration, grabbed at his chest and staggered, as if extremely dizzy. His wand turned inwards, and he barely had the time to gasp _Finite_.

He leaned on his thighs and breathed deeply for a few seconds, then he straightened up.

"Where did you learn that, Snape?" he snapped, ignoring the rest of the class.

"In the library," Rasmus replied. "You did ask me to counter that spell; not tell you what it was."

Professor Bai frowned and knotted his hands behind his back, still holding his wand. He turned sharply to the rest of the class.

"Can anyone tell me what Mr. Snape cast? _Except_ Miss Granger?"

Nobody else was forthcoming, and Bai ignored Hermione's hand as he instructed:

"He hit me with the tachycardia spell- a very effective way not only to cancel any and every spell your opponent might be casting against you, including the Unforgivables, but also render him or her an easy target. It is also a torture spell, used to cause extreme pain without inducing death. One _could_ say it is a dark spell."

"It's a medicinal spell!" Rasmus objected.

"10 points from Slytherin, Mr. Snape, for using a questionable means of defense. Go back in line," Professor Bai said, but did not expel Rasmus from the class.

"Now," he said as Rasmus returned to the group of students, "we will review some basic attack and shielding spells…"

Harry side stepped until he was standing next to Rasmus. Rasmus glanced at him with a questioning frown.

"Antahiga is not a curse you can research," Harry whispered to him. "It was Bai's trademark incapacitation curse against Death Eaters- he invented it."

"You mean there's no defense against it?" Rasmus whispered back, completely forgetting to pay attention.

"You just found one, Rasmus," Harry smiled lopsidedly.

"But that means Bai will want to even the score now," Ron added, and lost Gryffindor another five points.

***

_And that's that! I didn't have the time to write about the bad guys, but tomorrow they are up next ;) _

_**Lupus Ignis:**__ I hope you liked this first taste. We have only just begun. _

_**Moira of the mountain:**__ Finn is certainly fun. He's not Ron though. I just got a scare he might be coming across as a Ron-clone. _

_**RebeccaRoy:**__ He's easy to tease if he trusts you, true :D_

_Till tomorrow!_


	13. Assault

_Hey everyone! _

_We are now moving to second gear, and I'm getting more excited. I may up the rating in a chapter or two, as the bad guys unfold. _

_So, let's see! Onwards! Chapter 13_

_*** _

Rita Skeeter whimpered, curled up in a ball in the corner of the room in the back storage area of a muggle bar in London. Her fashionable clothes had been torn out of recognition, her hair was disheveled, and she was shaking all over from shock. She wiped her nose on her smooth cashmere sleeve, and it left a bloody trace. Her scalp hurt from all the hair pulling- she was positive one of them had torn off a whole fistful of hair, and there was wetness on her head. Had they tore off flesh, too?

And yet, it had been nothing compared to the Cruciatus.

Her mind still reeled and her throat was yet constricted from the screaming that would never, _ever_ be able to convey just how much pain raked through her system as if all her nerves turned to acid and her flesh into a pulsating mass of inflamed meat.

"This was just a warning, wench," the man said. Rita didn't dare move from her corner, and with the edge of her eyes only saw the tips of his muddy boots. He was red haired and green eyed this time. "Just a warning about what _really_ happens when you disobey."

"Ah… ah- I told you," she managed to speak around her swollen tongue- even that hurt. "T-told you… needed… excuse to… go to him."

"And did you?" the man had a self-important tone to him that was constant, no matter how much his voice changed with his disguises. "Have you brought me what I want?"

"N-not yet-" Rita arched back and screamed, surrounded but the sickly glow of the Unforgivable and leaving her sentence in half.

"Stupid harlot!" the man snarled, pointing the wand directly at her spine as she writhed like a butterfly pinned still living upon the display case. "You don't have any time left- I want his blood _tomorrow_! You are no use to me after that."

He let the curse up, and Rita cried, her tears mixing with her snot and blood in a salty, dribbling slick upon her face.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" she managed to utter though her coughs and wheezes.

"Get his blood today, and you don't need to be," the man almost purred. "Will you get his blood today, Rita dear?"

Rita nodded, her head bobbing in a crazed, panicky manner.

"Yes! Yes! As soon- as soon as s-s-second period or-or-or faster! I promise!" she gasped, trying to get on all fours and back into her corner.

"That's my girl," the man cooed, and took Rita in his arms very tenderly, stroking her the whole while. "That's my girl. Why don't we get you fixed up for Hogwarts then, eh? We want our Rita to be in top form for her visit to Hogwarts in a few hours."

"Yes…" Rita whimpered, huddling against the man's chest as he carried her away from the corner. She shut her eyes, and more tears burned her cheeks as the dreaded hand caressed her, and she didn't dare shiver in revulsion.

***

"Finn, why don't you copy this out for your potions essay?" Rasmus shoved a longuish parchment full with his small, neat handwriting. Finn's eyes lightened as he nearly swiped the paper and skimmed through it, then looked up suspiciously.

"Why are you letting me copy this instead of just giving me the outline like you did last time?"

"Because if I can't babysit you, my essay will," Rasmus smirked and patted the top of Finn's spikey dark red hair as he got up where he was sitting with him in the Slytherin common room (right underneath the skull with a pink bow spell-o-taped with a perky tilt on it).

"I'm a fast copier!" Finn called after him. Rasmus shook his head and grinned.

Walking to a particular corridor, Rasmus wondered how Finn had grown to a friendly ease with him so fast, while everyone else still kept him at a distance- especially the seniors who had seen him in the Practical earlier today. Rasmus was not the type who easily made friends. In all his years in the School in Athens, he had only ever made two, and of these two only one was trusted with something more than horsing around. Finn had become an easy friend in a span of mere days.

"You look adequately satisfied."

Rasmus looked at his father's corridor portrait- it was one of him next to the lake, in the outdoors. He smiled a little.

"So far the day's been ok."

"But yet you seek me out," Severus said, approaching to the frame and leaning against it like one did with a window. "What is it?"

"Dad, I need to ask you about Guiren Bai," Rasmus bit his lip as he saw how his father stiffened, even as a two-dimensional figure. "You never mentioned him in your enchanted diary to me."

"There was no reason to mention every single auror I have had to deal with," Severus said cuttingly.

But in the awkward silence, he sighed and leaned against the frame again.

"But I suppose I should have warned you of his vindictive nature a little more than I did."

"What is Antahiga, father?" Rasmus asked softly. "Potter told me it was his invention."

"Did he try to use it on you?" Severus' fist tightened as his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched.

"I stopped him," Rasmus hurried to say. "I used the tachycardia spell. There was a book in the library called _The Fighting Mediwitch: Your Skills Are Weapons_ and it really worked."

"That self-righteous bastard will answer to Minerva only because she's the viable option," growled Severus, but then the portrait stilled. Rasmus looked down a little.

"You did well," his father's portrait said, the voice measured, but full of force. "Antahiga is Bai's way of a painful death. It involves literally setting the sum of your blood on fire. If it hits at the torso, it cannot be countered."

Rasmus breathed in and asked the question that lingered in the air.

"Did you kill his family?"

"No," Severus said, but the pause was pregnant enough for Rasmus' heart not to ease. Snape turned from his son a little, looking back towards his lake background.

"I just put them out of their misery," he added a little more softly than before.

Rasmus knew exactly what his father's work as a spy entailed, because he had no compunction in telling his boy only truths, and never lies- his son would not grow up with lies as far as he was concerned; and he knew that Aello was unable to be less than truthful herself. So he knew that a spy was not the iconic creaseless James Bond or the mysterious but dashing Humphrey Bogart, but someone willing to die literally in the grit he or she fights- and risks losing more than life. He knew his father had risked his soul.

"That's all I need, father. Thank you," Rasmus said softly, and with a gentle touch of the canvas where his father's hand was, he left.

***

Nobody had yet stirred except the house elves. This was how early it was, and it was a Saturday- the second weekend of the school term.

Septima walked all the way to the North Tower, and up to the sixth floor. No student ever went to the sixth floor of the North Tower because few could see through the glamour and other concealment charms to realize there was a sixth floor. Also, the fact that Trelawny's residence still was there was better than any ward for repelling the curious or the nosey. Even Septima quickened her pace and cast whatever was necessary for her not to be noticed.

Going up through the trap door to the sixth floor, she looked for the wooden door to the right of the corridor, and pushed it open. The room inside was underlit in the soft heralding light of the very early dawn, and two tall candles on floor candlesticks on either side of the large arithmantic table the man was standing before. Septima shivered. Already the ink upon the large arithmantic chart was glistening in the eerie manner it had upon the walls and floor of the flat in Hogsmeade.

She approached cautiously- the man was staring intensely at the paper, his wand moving as he was forming symbols upon it. He smiled without raising his head.

"Hello, Professor Vector. I hope it is not too early for you."

"Not at all. I would stay up for this as long as I had to anyway," Septima said quietly, her expression eager.

Nikos smiled thinly. He looked tired, as if he had been up casting all night. The tapers' height certainly attested to that.

"How is Rasmus doing?" Nikos asked, swishing his wand once without word. The ink stopped glistening. The man sank to the chair behind him, and reached for a cup- Septima suspected it was charmed to be perpetually filled with coffee.

"He is adjusting very well. I am sure he would love to tell you personally."

"No, I don't want anyone to think I am not in Hogsmeade," Nikos shook his head, sipping coffee tiredly. "This was the mutual agreement with the Headmistress."

Septima sighed, looking to the side as she sat in the only other chair available in the large room. She suspected the Greek slept in some adjacent room. Then she turned her eyes back to him.

"How do you do it?" she breathed. "Arithmantic Augury is said to be lost in the ages."

"It is- to the weak at heart," chuckled Nikos. "Since the chances to die suddenly or end up drooling on your clothes for a few years are good and part of the occupational hazard."

Septima grinned. "But you are brave?"

"Oh heavens no," Nikos laughed. "I'm definitely not brave. Just in need. I needed Arithmantic Augury to save my sister's life, or prolong it, so I did it. And after that, I sort of kept needing it. Nothing to do with bravery, my dear professor."

"Call me Septima," Professor Vector said. Nikos grinned again. He set his mug to the side and got up with a little pat on his thighs.

"So- how it's done: with the use of sigils. Very powerful inscriptions invoking the magic calculations to evolve through time or dimensions to allow the Arithmancer to actually _see_ the fabric of time or situations. The bold and daring also use them for summoning spirits. I, however, use it to _see_: If you know the arithmantic imprint of a person, you can see what affects aspects of their lives- and in that sense, you predict what can happen. Or more accurately, you see what is _very likely_ to occur if something is not done to alter the equations."

There was silence as Professor Vector was taught by this so very easy-mannered man who was describing one of the most potent forms of magic ever to be harnessed by wizards as if it was first year charms. It took her a few paces to realize that she was simply staring at him before she shook herself and cleared her throat.

"What do you need me to do?"

"I and the Headmistress …have taken some steps to prevent … well, to set a trap for some really bad people," Nikos smiled again, but his eyes did not. Not this time. Septima noticed his eyes became almost yellow in this light and with this steely anger firing them. "And today is a very important day in the plans of these people. The equations are not definite on what sort of target they will try to shoot for today, but it definitely will be in Hogwarts."

Septima nodded, pulling out her wand, to demonstrate she was ready to offer assistance.

"I will teach you two sigils- think of them as the two anchors for the entire Augury chart I am about to activate. The only thing you have to do is keep signing them throughout the cast- and if I leave running, you will continue until I return. All right?"

"All right," Septima said a little uncertainly. Would she be able to do it well at first time, at a time so important as this?

Nikos misread this hesitation as fear.

"You won't be in any danger doing this. The danger comes only after you cast the entire Augury chart and choose to _see_ in the fabric. You won't be doing anything of the sort," he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"That was not my concern. Shaming Hogwarts' Professor of Arithmancy to a foreigner was," she quipped and Nikos laughed.

"Not to worry," he said and winked, then pulled her by the hand and as soon as she was standing next to him he added: "Let's start on the first Angelic Seal, shall we?"

***

Rasmus' eyes snapped open wide at the unsettling feeling that something – somethings- were slithering under his covers along with him. Betty was hissing at the foot of the bed already.

He jumped off the bed, wand in hand- he slept with it under his pillow- and swished it to throw the bedcovers off. They were crawling with all sorts of bugs, from cockroaches to spiders to centipedes. Some were still crawling on him- his legs, the name of his neck, his hair.

"_Damn it!_" he swore in Greek and pointed his wand at himself first, casting successive delousing charms like the ones he had learned when he was sent to summer camp. Then he shot a comprehensive hex upon the bed that completely destroyed the sheets and everything upon them. He grit his teeth, glancing around.

Everyone was still asleep, not stirring at all, even Finn. It didn't take long to realize they were under a sleeping charm, and this prank had been prepared only for him. He growled and charmed his clothes on- something he hated doing- and about turned to find the one who was responsible for ruining his sleep.

"Hodd! You one-legged manticore!" he bellowed as he ran wand-first to where Hodd, who was always trying to reclaim his favourite bed spot, was sleeping. The cot was empty.

"You can run but you won't hide!" he snarled. "It's easier to find you in an empty castle."

Quickly, he cast a locating charm using Hodd's discarded pajama and ran out of the Slytherin common room. His wand tugged at him and he ran all out, not caring if his steps echoed in the empty corridors until he found himself outside in the courtyard.

"If you don't come out right now and face me like a man, I'll transfigure you into the roach you are, Hodd!" Rasmus yelled, turning around himself, trying to find where the boy was hiding.

And there he was, standing still like a living statue, at the far end of the courtyard, as far away from the corridors as possible. He wasn't making any evasive motions, but Rasmus was not suspicious- Hodd always froze when he was cornered. He didn't know how to fight back, only how to intimidate. Rasmus snorted and marched up at Hodd, fully intending to cast a jinx that would cause him to spend the day with cockroach antennae on his rather boxy head, but he never had the chance.

A spell, a silent spell, hit him from behind, and all he could do was yell in pain he had never felt before.

In fact it felt as if the whole of his blood was on fire.

***

_And that's that! Insert evil cackle here. _

_**Duj: **__Bai can certainly be dangerous and he definitely is dangerous for Rasmus. _

_**Sindie**__: I usually don't go for OCs myself. In fact when I began the story, I only had in mind to have just Rasmus and Nikos. But now I realized I pretty much need an army of OCs, which is a bother since they need to be established as personalities- canon characters just need to be written dialogue for. And since Rasmus is not in Gryffindor, I can't use Harry and co more than I already had in mind to use them. (And that's a lot, but still I need OCs…)_

_Why I Don't Capitalize: 2 reasons. One, my keyboard has a very quirky shift key, and often I need to go back to capitalize things, and because I speed-type to make the daily installment, I am too lazy to go back for every 'Mr' and 'Mrs'. Two, I tend to write tone/gravity into capitals, and when the 'mr' is not really meant, I may be reluctant to capitalize it anyway. But mainly it's the shift key and the fact I have no time to just proof read the thing. _

_**RebeccaRoy: **__Excellent! How do you like this chapter?_

_So, I'm uploading in haste (need to prepare food) and see you tomorrow!_


	14. Quagmire

_Hey everyone!_

_Let's see what happens today, shall we?_

_Onwards! Chapter 14._

***

For the first time in his life, Rasmus wished for unconsciousness and did not get it. He writhed on the cold slabs of the courtyard, as his veins magically slashed open everywhere the skin was exposed to air. He kept his eyes shut, fearing they would leak from his sockets like tears if he didn't as the searing, scorching invisible knife of the spell slit open his veins on his forehead, cheeks, ears, jaw, neck- _my carotids are opening up! I am going to die!_ It was the only coherent thought that managed to break through the pain the kept him unable to move with volition- even his screams had gurgled to silence as his mouth filled with viscous blood.

And it was enough.

Keeping his eyes tightly shut as the eyelids were being sealed with the blood trickling and flowing into them, and he did his best to breathe through tightly serrated teeth and lips that didn't let too much air in. _If I am to die now, I must mark my killer or take him with me,_ his thoughts reeled in his head as he reached with slick, slippery fingers outwards for his wand. _Don't focus on the pain. Don't focus on your body. Do what you have to do,_ his mind pushed him and Rasmus called his wand to his palm, and tightened his bloody fist around it.

"_Exor…Reflexis… D-dolor… Doloris,_" he whispered, and there was a screech somewhere far away, something shattered, and buzzing that Rasmus didn't know if it was his idea or an actual success in his last stand before death.

His strength gave out, his heart fluttered unevenly and a horrible chill set in. He groaned as his body became too heavy to move and his wand slipped from his fingers as he careened into the pit of darkness he was certain was the end. _Mum, Dad! I'm scared!_

"_Hermione! Hermione!"_

***

"Shit! Snape! Rasmus!" Harry shouted as he threw away his broom and rushed over to the crumpled figure of the Slytherin boy. There was a small puddle of blood that was steadily and frighteningly widening with Rasmus as the center. His hair was covering his face somewhat, and only the hooked nose, lacerated and bloody, and a mess that matted the dark chestnut strand and glued them to his jawline was visible. It was too familiar, too haunting for the Boy Who Lived. Harry grit his teeth and tried not to see Snape in the Shrieking Shack, but Rasmus on the courtyard. This was different. This was not Severus. This was Rasmus. Rasmus did not have to bleed out, he would not be alone. Not if Harry could help it- and he would.

He could save Snape's son.

He _would_ save Snape's son.

He pulled out his wand and approached with decision, his jaw set.

"Harry?" Ron was still wide eyed and shocked into inertia that Rasmus could not afford.

"Get Poppy or Hermione, _raise the goddamn alarm!_" Harry snarled at his best friend who bolted faster than Harry had seen him in some time, yelling Hermione's name.

Harry pushed Rasmus' scarf to the side a little to check his pulse, but he was horrified to see that whichever magical attack had done this to Snape's son, it was still in effect and as he uncovered the flesh, it burst along the veins. Harry didn't need more to understand what was at stake and put the scarf back in place, away from contact with the atmosphere. Then, he frantically tucked Rasmus' clothes around him, and peeled off his quidditch cloak and covered him up further, trying not to make any more lesions to develop. He growled as he watched the clothes bleed through, but at least at a considerably slower pace than before, buying them some time.

Harry shook with rage and disbelief. This looked so much like Antahiga that he could not overlook it, even if Bai was his friend, even if he knew how much Bai had fought on the side of the Light. There was no excuse for attacking someone just for the name he carried- much less a student, a minor. Harry knew that only too well. He poised his wand to stop the aggressive spell in the way he had learnt to do- some field first aid knowledge Hermione had insisted they all learn, and Harry was once more thankful to her for that.

"_Immolato!"_

Harry flinched and gasped as the other Slytherin boy- he hadn't even seen Hodd- pointed his own wand against himself and collapsed where he stood.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" Harry muttered as he cast _Finite_ on Rasmus, and a medical shield, but didn't dare do anything more.

"Stand back!"

The shout was crazed, coming from the corridor as someone rushed over. Harry stood up wand out, protectively over Rasmus. He didn't know this wizard, had not seen him before, and he'd be damned if he let anyone not trusted go near Snape's son in this condition.

"You stay back, whoever you are!" Harry shouted at the dark haired, almost yellow-eyed man who sprinted frantically towards the courtyard.

The man didn't speak further but simply swished his wand and Harry felt his body float off his feet and sail to the side.

"Oh, no you don't!" Harry growled, eyes flashing and instead of fighting the _mobilcorpus_ he shot a stunner at the man. It smashed harmlessly on the man's protective spell, and he skidded on his knees next to Rasmus' body.

"Roc! _Roc_!" the man hovered his hand over the boy's face, and then pointed his wand at the still body. He moved his wand in movements that Harry had seen many healers employ, pausing for the spells to take effect, speaking in a foreign language in soothing, feverish tones and stroking the blood-matted hair of the fifth-year.

Harry realized in a mix of relief and embarrassment that this had to be Rasmus' Greek guardian that he had tried to keep at bay. Where had he come from? He looked like he knew what he was doing, and as Rasmus took in a shaky, raspy breath- without regaining consciousness- the man smiled and wiped at his eyes a little before resuming spell casting.

By that time, the courtyard had filled with teachers and staff, and there were students at a wider distance, some in nightclothes, some half-dressed, others trying to fulfill their duties as prefects and Heads while trying to gawk in the same time. The words 'Dark Arts' and 'Dark Lord' in various versions were already making students look fearfully at the blood pool that Nikos had managed to stop and the two prone bodies of the students as the sun rose and shed even more light upon the garish scene- the type of which had not taken place in the past two years and everyone had believed they were past forever.

"Make way!" Hermione's voice rang strongly with the force it had not employed since the battle, somewhat strident and burdened. Nobody dared stand in her path and so they hurried through the crowd, she and Pomfrey. Poppy's heart constricted as she took in the scene. Poppy saw that the bloody mess that was Rasmus was already being taken care of with the efficiency of the emergency healers in St. Mungo's, so she hurried over to Hodd.

The boy was still and cold, his lips bluish and his eyes sealed shut. Poppy quickly cast diagnosing spells and gasped at what she found.

"Oh- oh my God, Hodd has attempted to kill himself!" she exclaimed, forgetting that she was being heard by everyone. Her words immediately caused an even more dramatic wave of chatter and upheaval as students began to shout:

"You Know Who is back! You Know Who is back!"

"That is quite enough!"

The Headmistress' voice covered all others, and silence reigned as she also approached, erect and jaw clenched, wand in hand.

"Prefects, lead the students to your dorm rooms. Only the teachers remain for assistance. Classes are cancelled until noon today, where further instructions will be given. _Now!_"

The students scurried off, but the terror that Minerva had thought she would never again witness in her lifetime only took further hold.

"Poppy, is Hodd dead?" she asked.

"No- he didn't mean the spell enough. But he is in a dangerous enough coma, Headmistress," the nurse said. Minerva nodded and then turned to Nikos.

"Mr. Galanos?"

"I was wrong," Nikos' voice was cracked as he kept working on Rasmus. "I was wrong… and my boy's hurt…"

It was eerie, how the man's hands and voice was firm while casting spells to save his nephew and godson, but while waiting for them to kick in, he shook and cried with self reproach.

"Mr. Galanos!" Minerva felt at a loss. The man flinched and straightened up, breathing in.

"Rasmus needs the infirmary, but he is out of danger," he said in a faint voice. He was very pale. "He has lost a lot of blood, but with good care he will even be awake tonight. Mr. Potter covered him up and he wasn't allowed to completely bleed out before I reached them."

"I will provide what is necessary for speedy blood replenishing," Professor Frideswide said quickly. "As well as everything necessary to keep shock away."

Harry breathed in relief- and with the relief came the anger as he glared at Professor Bai- the man had the gall to stand around with Flitwick and Frideswide and Trelawney and everyone else to inspect his handiwork. Because Harry could not think of anyone else that would want to curse Rasmus Snape more, nor anyone else who liked toying with a victim's veins and was not already Kissed or in Azkaban.

"Headmistress, remember what I told you yesterday," he said as he walked up, glaring at Bai in challenge.

McGonagall glanced at the DADA professor.

"Yes, I do, Mr. Potter, but right now Mr. Snape's and Mr. Hodd's health take precedence. However, Professor Bai, I should like to see you in my office as soon as this is settled."

Guiren looked confused for a moment, but then, glancing from Rasmus to Harry to McGonagall he seemed to put two and two together. However, he kept his silence until Poppy and Nikos with Frideswide conjured stretchers to take the two students to the infirmary.

He then approached McGonagall as she was giving further orders to Filch.

"Headmistress, you can't imagine that I would curse a student, and with something equivalent to Unforgivables!" he said incredulously.

"You seemed quite eager to do so yesterday in the Practical," Harry said sternly. "If Rasmus hadn't stopped you."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Bai growled. "There was no way I would cast the Antahiga on anyone, even if it was Snape's spawn! I said as much to scare the boy, true, and see him beg- but-"

"We all saw you," Ron muttered.

"This is not a talk for the courtyard," Minerva said sternly, silencing Bai's retort.

Bai stormed off in a fury, just as Professor Sprout ran to the Headmistress saying:

"Minerva! Minerva! The tombs of Albus and Severus have been dug out!"

***

_And that's that because I have run out of time. More coming tomorrow! _

_**Zoe Bright:**__ Yay, welcome aboard! I hope you enjoy your handiwork, because this entire story is your fault, for unleashing the plot bunny on me! _

_**Duj**__: Harry did go to Minerva with it, but he thought that Bai wouldn't actually do it- exactly what Bai is saying right now, and because they are friends Harry took him on his word and didn't take it further. You will see more on that when he and Ron and Hermione talk about it. _

_**RebeccaRoy: **__Hope you like this, too._

_**Sindie**__: yay! I am happy you like it. I haven't drawn in ages._

_And that's that! Till tomorrow!_


	15. Counterstep

_Hey hey! _

_I know you all want to get to the story, so I won't talk here. _

_Onwards! Chapter 15._

***

Septima gasped as suddenly a hand closed around her wand hand, stopping the perpetual, looping movements she made reinforcing the sigils. Nikos had returned, but she resisted.

"No. No, look," she whispered, and kept signing as she heard a sigh behind her back and the Greek taking position next to her.

"The chart has changed," the voice was not excited enough- but it was somewhat alive. "Oh, Roc…! This must have been you; you did this to them."

Another sigh, and again his hands stopped her signing. The gold air-gliding letters, lines and numbers dropped softly like snowflakes back upon their places on the wide parchment, which had grown in size to accommodate them. As soon as they touched the parchment surface they turned dark blue and immobile.

Septima tore away from the sight and turned to look at Nikos, only now feeling the tiredness and wondering about the possible passage of time. But again she gasped, seeing the man up to his elbows in blood, his shirt front and pants- he didn't seem to favour robes- completely smeared with it, and his expression a mix of anger and helpless guilt.

"What- what happened?" she muttered. "I could understand how the equations changed and all the clusters and imprints, but I couldn't _see_ what was taking place, not like you can."

"My boy's hurt… Septima, I was wrong. The whole damn thing was done _wrong!_" Nikos yelled and kicked the arithmantic table with such force that it flew on the other side of the considerable big room.

"Rasmus is _hurt_?" Professor Vector cried out. "Is- is he…?"

"He will be fine. I didn't leave until there was nothing left to do but wait… but he could have died. He could have died, and his blood loss so staggering he nearly did once more in the infirmary. If I didn't know my sigils, I – and Frideswide had some really powerful potions in her stash… but I failed."

Professor Vector helped Nikos into one of the two chairs, wondering if the man was right and he had made an error. Septima somehow couldn't bring herself to believe it.

"It can't have been wrong. Augury or not, it still is Arithmancy and I know a correct chart when I see it. The chart is right- more than right, Nikos! It's –"

"It's got wrong core imprints! How could I be so stupid and not include Rasmus' imprint? If I had, he wouldn't be sedated in the infirmary because I would have _seen the goddamn danger he was in!_ I'm a fool," he sighed, passing his hand over his face, blood-dyed in his godson's blood as it was.

Then he straightened up a little and tried to smile for her.

"I really shouldn't be burdening you with my failures, especially since you upkept the Augury chart for so many hours, and so well! The equations continued developing, and now… well, as soon as I can trust my mind and my rage with it, we'll be able to know where to start looking for the identities of some, at least, of the darkies."

"The darkies?" Septima said, trying not to let herself think that she must have been standing drawing and redrawing sigils for at least four hours.

"Oh, sorry. It's what Aello and I used to call Dark Wizards when we were considerably more naïve about them. But the name stuck." Nikos got up and smiled at Septima.

"You look very tired, and I need to go to the Headmistress as soon as possible, and then I will just go stay with Rasmus until he wakes. Thank you, Septima. Really, thank you," he said earnestly, and though Professor Vector did want to go and rest, she felt reluctant to about turn and leave the man on his own. She had never seen wizards show their emotions so readily and openly, and didn't know if it was a sign of collapse or just Mediterranean temperament. It made Septima uneasy, and a little at a loss. But with a sigh, Nikos turned to retrieve the arithmantic table, and she knew she was dismissed, and to stay she'd have to find an excuse she was too tired to think up.

She walked out without saying another word. She knew Nikos would not hear it.

***

Professor Bai was sitting in McGonagall's office, waiting for her, but he was not hunched, or frightened, or in any way uncertain like one would expect of someone with so much evidence stacked against him. Instead he was seething in anger and glaring daggers at a certain frame. Snape's portrait burst into life as he snarled at Bai:

"You _child murderer_! I hope you get Kissed before you even get a date for the Wizengamot!" Severus yelled in such rage that it made Bai smile sinisterly.

"It hurts, doesn't it, Snape? At least your son is still alive. Mine is rotting in the ground!"

"You despicable rat," Severus spat, leaning against the canvas as if he was trapped in it, bearing his teeth. "I never killed your son. I wasn't there fast enough- the _real_ Death Eaters had been quick to have their fun with a toddler."

"Shut up! Shut up or I'll slash your canvas," Bai growled, even more enraged that his threat sounded so ludicrous.

Snape's upper lip curled just like it did when he was alive.

"Yes, truth hurts, doesn't it? It hurts that _you_ were the one late despite the warning I risked my cover to get you sorry lot that passes for aurors- it hurts that the only help _she_ got was a quick spell to follow her son without torture. All because _you_ were _late_!"

"Professor Bai! Step away from my wall!"

Headmistress McGonagall was just in time to stop Guiren Bai from literally attacking Severus Snape's portrait. He was shaking from head to toe and his teeth were clenched, still staring at Snape's portrait to the point that Minerva had to steer him to a chair and push him in.

"Professor Bai, Severus has good reason to have said those things to you," she began.

"You didn't even hear what he said!" the DADA professor managed to choke out, but Minerva cut him off.

"ANY words!" she snapped at him, making Severus glance at her oddly. Minerva tightened her jaw. She felt her cheeks too hot, and she also felt guilt that she hadn't picked Bai from the scruff for his charade in the Practical as soon as Potter had told her. As soon as Snape had told her. Bai was keeping his fists tight on his thighs and his head was bent, but not in shame- in anger. No, she had no sympathy for him. Not after what she had seen had to be done to sustain Rasmus to life, and Hodd! What had happened to that boy?

No, she didn't have any sympathy for Bai and his Antahiga curse.

"Explain yourself," she ordered him curtly. Bai's shoulders shook.

"There's nothing to explain. I didn't do anything to that boy, or the other one. You can cast Priori Incantatem on my wand, question me with Veritaserum- whatever it takes. But you are losing time. Shouldn't you be worried about those stolen bodies?"

"That is not your concern," Minerva said sternly, "until we precise that indeed you are not the one responsible for Mr. Snape's and Mr. Hodd's predicaments." She tapped her fingers to summon a house elf.

"Someone is waylaying you- someone who knows me well enough to imitate my curse," Bai was saying as he leaned back, his expression closed. "And you are letting them buy the time they need to get away with those bodies- or whatever they took from them."

Minerva didn't respond, and only Albus seemed at ease, popping a sherbet lemon in his mouth, from the painted silver bowl in his portrait.

***

Harry glanced at Hermione, and then at Ron.

"I still can't wrap my head around this. Bai is a lot of things, and there is no love lost between him and anyone called Snape, but to cast _that_ curse at a student- any student? Maybe someone else did it. Maybe someone who survived it, or watched him cast it."

"Can _you_ cast the Antahiga, Harry? You've seen him do it often, when he fought with us, haven't you?" Hermione asked pointedly as they rushed to where Dumbledore's and Snape's graves were located on Hogwarts grounds.

"No, I can't. It's some sort of complicated wand work, and I have not quite heard the chant either," Harry admitted. "Bloody hell. Maybe I _should_ have reported him before he landed Rasmus in the infirmary."

Hermione put a hand on her friend's shoulder as they kept walking.

"It was really lucky you were going for quidditch practice when you were. You saw him in time to, well, buy him time until his uncle came."

Harry made a non-committal shrug.

"Wait a minute," Ron said then abruptly, though he had been unusually silent the whole time Harry mused and Hermione asked questions. "Did you say wandwork?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Why?"

"Well in the Practical, when he'd said that he'd cast the curse at Snape, and went through the moves, he wasn't holding his wand."

"He wasn't?" Harry's eyebrows arched as his eyes widened. "He can't really do much wandless magic except Accio."

"Here we are," Hermione said, and her voice caught. Before them the beautiful marble of Dumbledore's grave was smashed, and the opening yawned ominously empty, and the other one next to it, once in dark green marble, was in complete ruins, the soil mixed with debris, and maybe the tomb's owner's remains too. _Defiled_, was the only word that Hermione could find to describe the sight, and it filled her with so much rage that there was a multiple crackle all around, and all the dry leaves upon the ground burst into small flames. Ron yelped and Harry flinched as she just stared at the site.

And Filch jumped them from nowhere, all or a sudden.

"Git," he leered at them. "Or you can bet you'll get detention, and I dun' care if you're the saviors of the whole bloody world."

***

It was very dark when something reached him in the soft, cozy dark blanket that enshrouded him, keeping him warm and safe from pain. It trickled from the top, like oozing syrup, and somehow dissolved the blanket here and there like water trickling through a protective cocoon of warm mud.

The more it trickled, the more the darkness dissolved, leaving him naked and unprotected to harsh sounds, to pain, to heat that threatened to return and devour him. _No, please! Don't pull me back. It's too much, don't let me wake_, his mind begged, but the darkness of oblivion would not stop thinning out until he could actually hear talk, feel pain. There was pain, and someone was jostling him so hard. Wasn't it hard? Or was he simply so hurt that even the lightest of touches sent lancinating white pain into his brain?

_-se, Roc. I kno- ….-ear me… _

He winced, and tried to move, and realized he was being forced to drink something hot, sticky and extremely bitter. He tried to resist, but it was no use- the hands were keeping him locked in the position that his throat would swallow whether he wanted it or not.

His arms felt not made of flesh, but hot coals and livid fire coursed in his veins. His legs were throbbing with his pulse. His whole body shook, and he felt it was too cruel to make him wake.

_Come on, Roc. I know you can. You're my brave lad, Roc. Wake up,_ the voice kept cajoling, and Rasmus wondered if he'd fallen off the huge fig tree again, back in Athens- the one that was close to the ravine, the one from which a fall meant several broken bones after carting down a ravine wall decked with thyme bushes and nettles. That was it, wasn't it? And Mum would threaten him to leave him to heal without magic, wouldn't she? _Mum! I want my mother. I will fight for Mum.  
_

Nikos' heart clenched upon hearing the boy's feverish whisper, calling for Aello when she could not be here.

"Wake up, Roc- godfather is here- uncle Nikos," he said, using the two appellations interchangeably as he spoke in rapid Greek and stroked Rasmus' hair just the way he knew he liked it, just the way Aello always did when he had been ill. Professor Frideswide bit her lip.

"Maybe it's too soon, Nikos," she said quietly, but she still kept helping the semi-conscious teen drink her potion. "Maybe he's not strong enough."

"No; now is the time, he is strong enough. He must wake, drink the Blood Replenisher, have healthy sleep, and heal fast," Nikos asserted, watching as Rasmus stirred more and more.

Professor Frideswide didn't object; she knew the Healer had a point. If they could give Rasmus the potions he had to take while conscious now, he would heal faster. If they waited for him to wake on his own, without her Nerve-Stimulating Potion, he would be too weak and need more time to convalesce. But wasn't it already frightfully quick? The Greek had cast some rune-like forms of spell he called sigils, and they seemed to jump-start the healing process, and protect from death in a way that left her breathless, and wanting to learn how it was done. But at what cost had this been done to the patient, Healer's energy aside? Waking early surely meant that more pain would be felt than the boy ever deserved. The sigil assisted Healing was in itself a trial- Nikos had sedated Rasmus for the whole time until now, to save the lad the pain and discomfort. When Rasmus rose from the stupor, nearly 8 hours later, the fever also rose. It did not allow for too many pain killers- even the muggle aspirin that Nikos had currently employed as a quick remedy, was going to be short lived.

Bandages covered the hands and forearms of the boy, as well as his legs from the knee down; his neck was also wrapped and only the capillary system bursts had been completely healed. There were still pink traces of lesions in parts where the veins were deeper in the flesh, like his cheeks, forehead and around his eyes; parts of the chest where the shirt had parted open under the scarf, and even along his torso there had been some sinister bruising- along with a lung collapse. It was truly a horrible sight, but Erna forced herself, like she used to do in the war, too, to think that this meant the patient was going to live. _And it is nothing compared to the hack job he'd been when we laid him on this bed. Nikos' Healing is simply stunning._

The potion finally was swallowed to the last drop, and she stepped back, readying the potions the boy would need to take as soon as he reached full consciousness. It wouldn't be long now.

"That's my boy," she heard after a while- she understood the meaning just from the emotion in Nikos' voice, because he was still speaking in his language. She turned around sharply.

In his godfather's arms, Rasmus had opened his eyes just a small, tiny crack. Erna Frideswide smiled in relief. Though gleaming with fever, those eyes were focused, fully aware and there was the spunk she had appreciated in them since the first time she saw him.

"Welcome back," she whispered, but didn't shout.

***

_And that's that! Kind of a slow-ish chapter, this one, but it's an 'aftermath' chapter. Tomorrow… 's gonna be different. ;) _

_Also, I forgot to say yesterday (I was in a hurry) that the thoughts/actions Rasmus makes/takes just before going unconscious in the courtyard, are also part of the Greek warrior culture. It's not a behavioral pattern unique to Greece, but it definitely is part of the Hellenic fighter's code of bravery, honour and valour- that you must mark the man who has managed to defeat you/ take your life in a fight/duel/war, or at least mark him. There are many folk takes all about that, and Greeks, when forced to fight/ take arms, are really serious about their battle honour, even in modern warfare, like the WW2 or even later, even if in peace times they may not show they have it in them as much- they do. You just need to get them angry enough and insulted enough. Another cultural tidbit for you! :D _

_**Zoe Bright:**__ That's great that you liked it so much! Hope this one serves, too ;) And yes, Bai does sound like Snape used to, at times, doesn't he? _

_**Moira of the mountain:**__ Glad you liked this. This may not be so exciting, but it is just as important. Anyone yet guessing what is MAYBE going on?_

_**Sindie:**__ I do try! Every day I fear I won't have the time, but maybe I'll manage the dailies to the end. _

_**RebeccaRoy: **__And here it is!_


	16. Aftershocks

_Hey everyone! _

_Somewhat frazzled today, so I'll just get down to writing. _

_Onwards! Chapter 16. _

_*** _

**Reporter Extraordinaire Found Murdered! **

**Rita Skeeter was found dead, last night, killed by a horrible unknown curse and abandoned in a back alleyway in Hogsmeade. The murderers left an odd mark burned in her back, of a scarab beetle in distinct Egyptian style. This could be the signature of these unashamed killers that deprived the wizarding world of a herald for truth and objective journalism. Who knows what Rita Skeeter discovered and was silenced for? Her associate in the Daily Prophet says that she was deep in a new article regarding the mysterious offspring of the ambivalent Severus Snape, Rasmus Octavian Snape who has been reported to be already adept in exotic and dangerous curses from Greece, where he grew up. **

**It has also been affirmed that he is **_**not**_** the illegitimate son of Lily Potter, but rather the illegitimate son of Aello Galanou, of a family notorious for dabbling in extremely dangerous and potent magic. While she is most known for her contribution to the wizarding world of such helpful things as the Asthma-Relieving Potion and the Sterilizing Charm for living creatures, she was also known to use unsolicited methods for her magical research. That she died of Craigh disease, the sickness of magical energy drain, is not unrelated to her dabbling in dangerous, extreme and even- some would say- dark magic. One can safely assume her son will have be enimbued with the same dangerous, bordering-on-dark principles. This information was already part of Rita Skeeter's research. What else did she discover about the Snape line that was worth losing her life over? **

**In deference to the honour of Severus Snape as one of the most important war heroes, we must also say that the murder could be unrelated to the particular story she was researching, and she may have stumbled upon some other nefarious situation unraveling in Hogwarts or the vicinity. The hideous curse that hit her is suspiciously similar- or even identical- to the killing method of ex-auror Guiren Bai, who was dismissed for using this nearly unforgivable curse of his on Death Eaters he was supposed to arrest, not murder. Could Rita's murder be related to him? **

**We are waiting for the results of the Ministry investigation of the murder, and hoping that by the time of her funeral, on Friday, we will know considerably more. **

**May every reporter aspire to reach Rita Skeeter's sense of conscience and truth in journalism. **

Minerva was split between breathing in relief and scowling at Rita Skeeter's death. She was quite happy to be rid of the horrible floozy that thrived on cheap gossip rather than serious reporting- but Rita had managed to make even her death troublesome and a gossip fest. She peered at the name of the reporter signing the drivel announcing the murder. _Hoyt Cam Kade_. Was that even a name?

Her fireplace flared and a secretary asked her if she had a moment for Minister Isa Dawlish to speak with her. Minerva was sorely tempted to say no, but she knew that it would be a mistake with Isa. She took her job quite seriously and felt she had to work twice as much to convince the conservative wizarding world that a woman in the position of minister was a wise choice. Her name had helped in her election, but that was about it. And since an epidemic of dragon pox had cause Isa Dawlish to shuffle through Hogwarts' hygiene regulations in every way known to man, McGonagall had no doubt that a murder would provide a new sort of administrative hell for the Headmistress if she wasn't careful.

So she said yes.

***

Minerva hated to do this to Nikos Galanos, but she felt she couldn't trust Bai with someone like Isa Dawlish. She hoped Nikos would. She smiled tightly at the woman sitting opposite her- she was dark blonde, tightly swathed in her dark green and yellow robes. There was a pendant dangling just over her stomach, which Minerva knew was a watch and stop-watch. The minister was sitting at the very edge of her chair, lips tight- they seemed to strive to take the smallest possible space on her face- and eyes glancing here and there suspiciously.

"Tea, Minister?" McGonagall asked. Dawlish shook her head.

"No, thank you. The only reason I came through the floo instead of simply talking to you is to get the information you won't just relay to me, and maybe be convinced why not to employ the Unspeakables to investigate this," she said in a dry voice.

"I would not dream of stopping you from using Unspeakables, Madame Minister," McGonagall tapped for a tea tray anyway, "but rather from using the Auror department, or the Law Office- where the sources of all the Daily Prophet reporters are. This _cannot_ be known."

"Hm," Dawlish sipped the tea she had refused.

There was a polite knock on the door although Minerva knew Nikos had used the password outside to enter her office.

"Please, Mr. Galanos, come in," she said. Nikos entered. Minerva's heart tightened. The man was obviously tired and sleepless. His eyes were heavy lidded, though very sharp and alert. His face had about a day's stubble, and his clothes were clean, but still disheveled- his shirt was not tucked in, and the sweater just pulled over it. His hair was sticking out at places, not quite long for a ponytail, but not short enough to be tame. The moment he glanced at the Minister he straightened up a little, and looked at McGonagall.

The Headmistress rose and made the introductions.

"Minister Dawlish, meet Mr. Nikolaos Galanos. He teaches advanced Arithmancy in the Athens School of Magick, and Heal-"

"I am aware of who Mr. Galanos is," Dawlish said. "Auguror- summoner of dark spirits. The type that demonize all things magical."

Nikos chuckled and shook his head.

"You wrong me, Minister. I _could_ use Augury to summon spirits- light or dark- but I actually use it to get a feel of what, say, the next step should be. And you will thank me soon, once you hear how two war heroes' remains were nearly used for dark purposes- but were not, because of your friendly Greek Auguror."

Isa Dawlish paled a little.

"So there _is_ something going on in Hogwarts that got Rita Skeeter killed!" she exclaimed. "Whose remains?! Not Dumbledore's!"

"And Severus Snapes," McGonagall said. "But we transferred their bodies, and swapped them in the graves with …" she trailed off and looked to Nikos for help. He obliged.

"…what they'd want to use but would also help me see what they are up to in Augury."

"And where are the-the _real_ remains?"

"Over there," Nikos pointed with a smile at two urns. "Where they can be honoured and not used."

Dawlish stood up straight scandalized.

"You _turned the two Headmaster's of the War into ASH!?_" she screamed. "That's disrespectful!"

"It would be more disrespectful if we were turned into dark potions ingredients," came Snape's drawl from his portrait.

"That would be most unpleasant, I have to agree," Albus nodded conversationally.

Dawlish looked to the side thoughtfully.

"You seem to have a plan about this," she said, looking at Minerva and Nikos.

"We definitely would need your help to make it fool proof," Nikos said with a smile, looking at the minister in the way that always unsettled McGonagall.

It seemed to flatter Isa, though. Her mouth twitched, and she huffed.

"Tell me what you are doing, and if it washes, I will… support it."

***

Rasmus woke up, but didn't feel like stirring. He was so very tired, and comfortably numb.

He didn't understand why he was so tired since he had been sleeping. Unless he had woken up and he didn't realize it. _That would mean I was sleeping anyway. _Rasmus chuckled to himself. _My thoughts are silly. That's what mum says._

"Darling? Are you awake?"

_That's not mother._

No, it couldn't be, could it? Mother was dead, and he was in Hogwarts, not Athens. And he was tired because he'd nearly died. He sighed, and forced himself to open his eyes. Poppy Pomfrey's face came into focus. She was waving a crimson potion vial in his face.

"You must drink your Blood Replenisher potion right away, dear. And after that, we'll see if you can get some ice cream."

Rasmus frowned.

"Ice-cream?" he croaked and winced. Talking hurt his throat as if a grating paper had replaced his windpipe and vocal cords. He toned it down to a whisper. "For breakfast?"

Poppy chuckled as she very gently helped him sit up. Rasmus noticed his bandaged arms but chose not to think about how they began itching the moment he looked at the white strips around them or how they began burning the moment he raised his hands to get the vial. Poppy let him handle it, and wandlessly ensured that he would take it to his lips successfully. If he was anything like his father, and Poppy knew he was from the moment she laid eyes on him, he would want his dignity intact.

"You are lucky; it's the only thing you can have today due to your throat and esophagus. Tomorrow, we can switch to normal, but light food. Just warm, though. You can't eat anything hot this week."

Rasmus swallowed the viscous potion and made a face, then let Pomfrey lower him back down. He panted and cold sweat had broken on his forehead. But he didn't let himself consider that, either. His mind threatened with the memory of how that curse had felt in the courtyard, the feeling of certain death- and he didn't want to think about it. Not while he was panting and feeling so weak he had to be supported by good willing wandless and silent spells.

He sighed and managed to smile lopsidedly.

"B-but Prof…essor Frideswide told me not to… eat anything sweet yet. From that… copperhead."

"Copperhead?" cried Poppy in horror. Rasmus realized the Potions mistress hadn't shared that with the school nurse. But Poppy huffed anyway and shook her head. "Well then, we'll just need to give you ice cream that isn't sweet. How about bread and butter flavoured?"

***

_And that's that for now! I'm exhausted, and couldn't bring myself to write the next scene. I hope you like this one anyway! __I hope you don't mind Rita's exit…_

_**Zoe Bright: **__I really like Nikos, too! Can't wait to get him into a real fight. (Though he avoids those!) _

_**Duj: **__Well actually, Harry was looking at Rasmus, not Bai. He and Hermione were getting ready to whisk him off the curse's path. _

_**RebeccaRoy:**__ I certainly do know about Viking berserkers! And how accomplished sailors they were, too. _

_**Silverweed- Ella Jonquille:**__ Thank you! I am happy you do. I like to tell stories, and the setting is just the story stage ;) But I must ask, if you want to tell me, what you mean by 'self-contained' in a story? _

_And that's that! Till tomorrow!_


	17. Concocting

_Hey hey!_

_Ugh, I am beginning to write this at 1am! ONE IN THE MORNING! How about that for work ethic? (that is after a 12-hour work day) Anyway, if this is short, please excuse me… _

_So, Onwards! Chapter 17. (it's already been 17 days since I began writing this!) _

_*** _

The vial of blood was half empty- the reporter had not even managed to pull of a plan that someone else had designed for her. The man snorted as he put it in a secure place on the shelf and stripped off his clothes- the squib's stench was almost too much to bear- which he incinerated with a flick of his wand. Then he went about gathering the rest of the utensils that would be needed for the ceremony, including the rancid flesh and dead hair of the two vanquishers of the last Dark Lord.

Hah. That half-blood was a disgrace that should not even have lasted as long as he had. It was testament to the incompetence of those who were weak, but preached they were strong. How complacent everyone had already become, as if Voldemort was the begin-all and end-all of what the Dark Crafts had to show for themselves, and they could now sleep in peace.

He smirked and retrieved the old tome, levitating it upon the table with his wand rather than touch it. Though he was not truly a squib, he didn't know how the particular Book of Shadows would react if unclean flesh touched it.

At that moment, he felt the wards activate, then permit entry to another person. Soon after, a tall dark haired man with a pale, twisted face entered and gasped, whipping his wand out.

"Filch!" he managed to say, but at his smirking laughter he paused.

"Lady Isis?" the man peered, with a slightly gross grimace on his face.

"Good, Dolohov," she purred. "An accomplished Dark one cannot be fooled by polyjuice."

"But seeing Filch tackled out nearly did," Dolohov muttered, lowering his eyes.

"This is but a costume, Dolohov- the reason why you are not in breach for looking upon this flesh. Soon, the potion will wear off," Isis said smiling to herself with superiority. "As soon as you are done reporting, I believe. Start."

Dolohov nodded, standing formally before the naked figure of the disguised woman. She didn't demand groveling, like Voldemort did- not in the crude way of Tom Riddle. No; she demanded far more than that, in a far more painful way than that- but Dolohov knew that was a manifestation of her power. Enormous power. Power that would make Voldemort lick her feet to beg for mercy. So while Dolohov stood, he kept his head and eyes down, knowing that he would not be forgiven if he raised them now.

"The scarab and ankh have arrived, Lady Isis," the man said. He waved his wand and a wooden casket floated to the polyjuiced woman. "The ones you precised. The Heart Scarab of Hatnofer and the lapis lazuli ankh."

Isis took it off the air with tender care, stroking the lid before opening it.

"Hatnofer was very loyal," Isis purred, walking to the counter with the box, touching the items inside. "She did everything I told her, and that is why she was rewarded by controlling Hatsepsut, and through her, an empire."

Dolohov knew to be silent. Isis sighed.

"Continue," she intoned as she straightened up from Filch's crooked stance, feeling her hair thicken and change colour, her skin turn the lush light olive and her body return to its female curvaceous look. She walked to the closet in the back of the room, and took the dark royal blue robe, slipping it on softly. It fell in soft ripples around her elegant form, as she tightened it around her torso and waist. From the shoulders stylistic yellow and orange cloth wings dropped softly from her shoulders like a protective cape.

Dolohov tried to steal a glance without moving his head position as he said:

"Yes, my lady. I have managed to find everyone who survived, and they have been informed of what to do. They are already preparing for the ceremony."

"Good. Once I retrieve what Slytherin and his friend Gryffindor stole from me, I shall be ready to resume my proper form and status," Isis said, placing the falcon-like headdress on her head.

She turned to Dolohov and smiled.

"And those who know their place, shall be rewarded. Come, let us begin."

***

Nikos leaned on Minerva's desk tiredly after Minister Dawlish left. Whatever energy he had saved was drained by that exacting witch, and he wondered just how he would manage to handle Augury with a reeling mind.

"I am really sorry for subjecting you to the minister's questioning, Mr. Galanos," Minerva began. Nikos smiled and shook his head.

"Please, let's do away with last names. Call me Nikos."

"All right, if you reciprocate," Minerva nodded. "Thank you for helping me with her; the last thing we need is her ministry raising up a scare in the people."

"Well, that is to our mutual interest, really," Nikos sighed and passed his hand through his hair. "Do you think she will cooperate?"

"For now, yes. You told her this would be dealt with quietly, and she likes quiet."

"Of course Galanos rarely makes good on that sort of promise," came Severus' voice from the wall. "Rasmus is awake."

Nikos straightened up and grinned.

"That's great! He's got your strong countenance, it seems, Severus."

"His mother was hardy, too," Snape said dismissively. "And since she's unavailable, go fill in."

Nikos nodded and turned to leave. Minerva said nothing, but as he was about to exit he about turned and smiled at the headmistress.

"If you want me to, I can check on that classmate of Rasmus' too, see if I can rouse him from the coma."

"Professor Frideswide suggested that to me, and I think Poppy secretly wants you to," Minerva nodded. "Thank you, Nikos."

Nikos simply nodded and exited.

***

Rasmus wanted to tell Poppy that ice cream that tasted like food was inducing the gag reflex just by thinking about it, but he wasn't sure what she'd think of next- except that it would be horribly sensible and _wrong_ to consider edible. Fruit flavoured ice cream was for some reason out of the question, and the term 'frozen yoghurt' confused her.

So, together with a mild analgesic potion, he found himself staring at a generous helping of garlic-flavoured ice cream. He looked at Pomfrey helplessly.

"Why garlic?" he said in his breathless, soundless voice that didn't hurt. She grinned in pride.

"It's the latest craze in Diagon Alley, it wards off vampires and it is good for your blood pressure, which needs all the help it can get these days," she said smugly, helping him drink the potion and sit propped up in his bed. "Eat up!"

Rasmus bit his lip as he looked at the ominous looking lump of off white blob that was deceptively similar to innocent vanilla, and figured that it would be worse to eat it melted- _molten garlic!_- and take it as medicine. He picked up his spoon, noticing with satisfaction that the potion was quickly driving the itch away from his bandaged arms and hands.

"Snape! You're alive!"

Finn ran in the infirmary and sat heavily at the foot of his bed, making the whole cot shake. Rasmus grinned thinly, and didn't complain of the threat for nausea.

"Hey, Finn," he said, for lack of anything better. Finn just continued with a grin.

"And look who I got you!" he plopped Betty upon Rasmus' lap and plucked the spoon from his fingers. "Let me get a taste of that succulent-looking thing while you pet your tabby, hm?" he added smoothly.

Rasmus grinned slyly and petted the kitten which started to purr as soon as she was out of Finn's grasp.

"Sure, go ahead and taste it all you want," he said, rasping somewhat to be more heard.

Finn took a liberal spoonful and shoveled it in his mouth, eyes shut in preparation for pleasure. His eyes widened and he made a face, sticking his tongue out immediately after- it was still garlic coated.

"Merlin's beard and bobbles! Who in their right minds would pull a prank on the sick?"

Rasmus laughed as he leaned back more comfortably.

"It's medicinal ice cream," he quipped. "What, don't you like it?"

Finn made a face again, clicking his tongue to work off the taste, but then he tilted his head.

"Can I get another spoonful?" he pointed at the ice cream with his spoon. "After you swallow, it is kinda cool- ya know, an acquired taste."

"Sure," Rasmus arched an eyebrow and watched Finn sample the thing again, which he did with flair.

"Second spoon makes it better. Try it, not bad at all," Finn nodded and conjured up a second spoon.

Rasmus sighed and did. The taste was odd, but it wasn't horrible, and he rolled his eyes and smirked. He liked garlic, but in salads or cooked- not iced, that made it decidedly weird.

"Bet the French would _adore_ this," Finn grinned and Rasmus laughed as he took another spoonful.

"They'd adore to make you eat this and your words," he said, happy that Finn hadn't said anything about his bandages or his soundless voice.

Nikos watched from the entrance to the infirmary and smiled, seeing how Finn had gotten Rasmus to eat the ice cream, and how he was making him feel better. Severus had told him- while ranting- how Rasmus tended to do this boy's homework for him, but if this was the payback, Nikos could more than feel it was a clean deal. Rasmus was generally an introverted boy, and such friendships were rare to null, and so Nikos waited until all the ice cream was eaten, Betty the kitten had played with a scrunched up napkin until she literally fell asleep where she lay, and Rasmus was nearly ready to sleep again for a good five hours or so, and entered then.

"Godfather," Rasmus smiled. "You came from Hogsmeade, didn't you?"

"We'll talk about that when you are rested more," Nikos shook his head, not wanting to reveal or speak about anything that had went on in front of another student. "For now, I came to return your wand to you, and make sure you sleep."

Rasmus grinned.

"Oh, wonderful! I didn't know how to ask after it- if it was back at… the courtyard," he said and reached out for it. His hands had began shaking again from the exhaustion, but just receiving his light, striated honey-and-cream coloured wand gave him energy and optimism, and that was what Nikos was aiming at.

"Always been meaning to ask, what wood is that?" Finn asked, pointing. "Your wand looks different."

"It's not that different," Rasmus replied, stifling a yawn. "It's olive, with Pegasus hair core."

Nikos glanced at Finn with meaning, and Finn got up.

"I'm going to go to class now- I used an excuse to skip Transfiguration today. You get well soon, ok? Or my grades will begin slipping!"

Rasmus grinned sleepily, holding his wand in his hands and feeling its energy.

"Go 'way, you loafer," he smirked as Finn left, and Nikos stroked Rasmus' hair.

"Glad to see you better, bub," he said in Greek.

"Thanks for bringing me my wand," the young man replied. "You want to do something with it, don't you?"

"You know I always ask permission for handling wands of family members," Nikos smiled. "And you're right; I need to cast Priori Incantatem, to see what you got your attacker with."

"You think I got him?" Rasmus seemed to wake a little more.

"I know you did. The charts showed as much," Nikos smiled. Rasmus' eyes lit with pride as he tended the wand to his godfather.

"Go ahead."

***

_I am too tired to answer reviews now (thank you for all of them! I really enjoy reading and answering them). Leave me some more now, and I will answer them all tomorrow!_

_See you then! _


	18. Assisting

_Hey everyone! _

_Oh no! I broke my every-day-an-update streak! :( but my line of work is unpredictable, and very demanding, and alas, side-fling stories for fun at times suffer… oh, and I'm amazed. No comments or thoughts on this Isis? AT ALL!? Shocking. Isis is not pleased. XD _

_So, onwards! Chapter 18._

_*** _

_**Reddish waves of malice threatened to devour and drown him, and there was nothing to hold on to for a chance at life. He screamed for help, searched for his wand, and nearly lost it in the slippery mire he knew was blood- blood of the victims of something horrible, terrible, unstoppable…! **_

_**He yelled the spell and nearly was drowned by the blood that rose to invade him, but the wand responded and help arrived- a giant falcon swooped down and picked him in its great talons, and he breathed in relief. Relief that turned to horror once he realized that he was the falcon's prey, and its beak came with force upon his skull, cleaving it open-**_

Harry sat up in bed, drenched in sweat and panting. He leaned forward, head in his shaking hands.

"Dream… it was just a dream," he muttered, rubbing his eyes to chase away the dying embers of a nightmare far more frightening than he had had in ages, maybe ever.

His eyes stung and teared up as if something acrid had gone into them, and Harry hissed in surprise and confusion as he blinked furiously and wiped his face upon his sheets and sleeve. His vision cleared, but Harry wished it hadn't. As he gazed at his palms, he saw blood oozing off them, dripping in a sickening way- blood from _that_ mire, _that_ sea of dead victims, and it _was on him, he couldn't rub it off!_

"Ah… ah…" Harry stammered, peering around owlishly for help, but yelled in fright: he could see without his glasses, and there was blood spattered everywhere, blood of murder, blood of deceit, blood of victims that were rising in rebellion at something, _someone_ that had _not been stopped_…!

Harry jumped out of bed, trying to escape, trying to make himself wake up, for surely he was not awake and somehow the nightmare was continuing.

"I did all I could!" he shouted, wondering why nobody else was around, why nobody else was shaking him awake so this horror, this madness could finally end. He ran away to the open door, and finally, everything went black.

***

Nikos knocked on Professor Frideswide's office, early in the morning before breakfast. The door swung open so abruptly that the man flinched.

"Come, come, come," she said, bustling about her office. It was full of shelves with all sorts of vials and bottles and pots and boxes- no raw ingredients- as well as several trinkets that apparently the professor liked. Nikos arched his eyebrows in that many of them were muggle- a lava lamp, a magnetic field hovering globe of the world, ever-moving pendulums, fiber optic trinkets.

"How can you have these things here?" Nikos pointed at the things that needed electricity to work, or electronics. "Magical places don't let them work."

Erna giggled naughtily as she switched on the lava lamp.

"Only for those that don't try hard enough, my man, only those," she said as she watched it. She tilted her head.

"Are you here to inquire about my advances in muggle gismo incorporation to the magical institution, or for something more mundane?"

Nikos grinned, feeling the witch was giving him energy just by talking to him- a rare sensation to have.

"Mundane, I'm afraid, but now I'm intrigued. Still, mundane takes precedence; I really really _really_ need you to give me some Apperception Potion- just for today."

Nikos cringed at Frideswide's stern look and knit his hands in front of his face, wondering if he should have shaved first before asking her this.

"Whatever makes you think I'd have something illegal like that?" she huffed. "No wizard in their right minds would even _want_ to use it, rather than just sleep and do whatever they need to do rested."

"Yes, yes," Nikos nodded, not getting out of his cute-slash-begging pose, "no wizard in their right minds would, but augurors tend to need it once in a while, for emergencies."

Frideswide said nothing, turning her back to Nikos to shuffle some papers that had been neatly stacked already.

"Please?" Nikos asked again. "And I'm good for it- your wish will be my command. Word of honour."

"I don't know you that well, Nikos Galanos," Frideswide grumbled again and she reached for her stack of books. "I don't give illegal potions to crazy Greeks."

"I will teach you the Healing Sigils," Nikos said.

Erna's movement paused for a moment, and Nikos grinned, even though she then continued in her display of indifference. He straightened up.

"Professor Frideswide, time is ticking. I spent the better part of the night laying the chart, based on some new information I got from Rasmus' wand- the boy cast a pain mirror charm on his attacker, and that allowed me to pinpoint their imprints, and the general area of where they are. But it sapped my energy, and now I absolutely _need_ to go see to Hodd, and get him out of the coma if I can. He has knowledge we need if we are to find the darkies!"

Frideswide turned a little and shot him a side glance.

"So you need to force your mind and energy to be enhanced to heal Hodd?"

"In so many words, yes," Nikos nodded. "I'd wait a few days, but whatever they are doing, they are doing it _now_. The chart shows we have a window of maybe another twelve hours. I can't wait."

Erna exhaled and her shoulders hunched. Nikos grinned, perking up.

"Thank you!" he said as he watched her picking up a pen. With a swift move of her wand, she transfigured the pen back to the potions casket it originally was. She turned to glare at Nikos.

"Anyone comes shuffling through my pens, I come after you. I was in Ravenclaw, but even Slytherins feared my wrath."

"Yes, madam," Nikos grinned.

"And you'll go to bed as soon as you are done, and not wake up for the fortnight." Frideswide shook her finger at her and Nikos laughed.

"I'll put in my six hours of sleep."

"Eight."

"Seven?"

"Deal," Frideswide opened the casket and retrieved a very small round vial with a dark green effervescent liquid in. She went to give it to Nikos, but pulled her hand back just as the man's palm was about to close around it. Nikos looked at her questioningly.

"_And_ you will teach me the Healing Sigils."

"Absolutely," Nikos said and grinned as Erna handed him her potion. He bowed in wordless thanks and turned about to leave.

"Nikos," Frideswide stopped him just as he was at the door. "The potion's illegal for a reason. Take care of yourself- and that apparently insane mind you carry in your skull."

"I shall; after all, I must be sentient enough for that lesson, ne?" Nikos winked over his shoulder and walked out the door.

***

The bandages were off, and the impossible, gross food crossover was history. Rasmus was generally happy that it had only taken just shy of 24 hours to bring him back to some sort of health. He looked at his arms as he slipped on his shirt. There were paper-thin pink scars lining nearly all of his blood vessels, which was a split between cool and icky. They also hurt or itched from time to time, but he knew it would stop with time.

"You should not leave until at least tomorrow," Poppy was saying, frowning in disapproval and quite irked that she had been overwrought by a Healer. The boy's godfather had said he was good to leave, provided he abstained from physical exercise. Of course the young Snape had said he would, but Poppy simply _knew_ he'd be back on this bed spewing blood in no time.

That would give her just cause to give that irresponsible man a serious talk. Poppy huffed.

Rasmus grinned up at her. Some pink lines still crisscrossed like tiny rivers upon his face, but most had been healed.

"I will take care, I promise," he said and stood up, swaying a little before controlling his balance and slipping on his dark purple sweater. "And I'll be back for the potion in time."

Poppy was ready to make him recite the hours he would need to return for the Blood Replenisher, but she had no chance. Hermione rushed in, with aloof airs and specific purpose.

"Madame Pomfrey, is Rasmus free to go?" she asked in a voice that made all sort of alarms go off in Rasmus' head, but most of all curiosity. What would a member of the golden trio want with him, when none of them had made any efforts to befriend him since the school started?

Poppy looked surprised as well, but not suspicious.

"Whatever you do, Miss Granger, do _not_ let him exert himself. He is not to engage in _anything_ that involves expending too much energy, and _especially_ not anything physical." Pomfrey was stressing the words making her voice jump an octave unexpectedly. Hermione nodded quickly.

"Rest assured, Madame, I will see to it he's careful. Rasmus, do you want to join me? I have all your homework for you." She turned to Rasmus, locking stares with him in a way that clearly stated, as she intoned her question, that he was to say yes, and it was important.

_What if it's a prank?_

No, it wouldn't be. Potter wouldn't do that right now. Maybe Halloween, but not now, and after the courtyard. So he turned to Poppy and nodded, then slipped on his shoes, placing his wand up his sleeve.

"Good. I want that homework to be trustworthy, and everyone says you're it."

"I am definitely it," Hermione nodded, barely containing herself, and before Pomfrey could repeat her warnings again, she led Rasmus out of the room.

"All right, what's going on? Am I going to need dueling skills?" Rasmus asked, trying to walk in his usual lofty gait, but found that it was threatening to tire him alarmingly quickly. Hermione noticed immediately as well and slowed down as she answered:

"No, no. Listen, Harry and Ron are often hot headed, but you are not someone they want to make life hard for. I am here because, well, I figured that you or your godfather- he's your godfather, right?- maybe can help without anyone making a gossip out of Harry again."

"Me?" Rasmus' eyes widened. "What's so gossipy about what Potter may have?"

"Everything is gossipy when it comes to Harry, but this is even more gossipy than usual," Hermione said with a sigh and looked at Rasmus again. "How much do you know about the War here?"

"Enough," Rasmus said, rather dryly.

Hermione nodded and bit her lip.

"Well, do you know that Harry had visions, because of being You-Know-Who's horcrux?"

"Yes," Rasmus felt as if each answer was being pried from him, as if each answer would tell this girl more than he wanted about himself, about his father, about the relationship they had had. He anticipated the next prying question about the how or the why, and how he would shoot it down just like he had for at least ten different Slytherins, their cousins and their Hufflepuff minions, but it never came. Hermione simply went on to the issue that was troubling her.

"Well, Harry has visions again- and they are not like Voldemort. They… they seem different, and worse."

By that time, they had reached the portrait Hermione wanted. She had taken several shortcuts for Rasmus' benefit, but the young Slytherin could tell they were close to Gryffindor Tower. She spoke a password and ushered him in.

They found themselves in a room all in red and gold, that looked suspiciously like what Gryffindor's common room would be. Hermione smiled at him a little nervously.

"This is a side room that will give us privacy from the rest of the dorms. Several centuries ago it was the Gryffindor common few students have ever known of it since Gryffindor Tower was reconstructed some three hundred years ago, and I do only because I read even the footnotes of _Hogwarts: A History_. We won't be bothered here, and Harry can tell you what the vision was. You know; so you can tell your godfather- I am certain he would know what to do with this. He's an Auguror, isn't he? They are experts on how to harness the mind, Occlumens aside."

Rasmus found Hermione Granger and her tendency to just talk without stopping overwhelming- the place overwhelming- the fact that Potter was there looking pale and drinking chocolate overwhelming. And Ron Weasley just looking at him as if he was a creature from Care of Magical Creatures class- or worse, was not helping any.

Harry sighed, rubbing his temple.

"I'm fine! 'Mione, I really am, it was just a nightmare! You shouldn't have bothered Rasmus just as he's up."

"Shut it, Harry. It is _not_ a nightmare when it manifests when you're awake. I told you some of those spells in that book were going to be dangerous. Why didn't you wait until at least I'd studied all there was to know about them?"

Rasmus watched, thinking to himself that he had never actually thanked Potter for covering him up in the courtyard- something that Poppy had told him the Gryffindor had done while changing his bandages and trying to-unsuccessfully- chat him up.

"I've been dragged here already, so if you got something for my godfather, now's the time to tell me," he said with a slight drawl. "Or I can just get you an Oneiromancer from Greece. I'm sure one of the buddies would pry a ball from one of the girls' hands for you," he couldn't help adding.

"We don't need a dream reader orb, any more than a cup of tea at Trelawney's," Hermione snapped, thus solving Harry's and Ron's unvoiced question.

Rasmus had wanted to sit down, but now he forced himself to remain standing, just so that Hermione wouldn't think he was cowed into sitting. He felt his legs shaking. Harry sighed, passing his hand through his hair.

"You must be tired, aren't you?" he whispered at Snape's son. He still was uneasy when talking to the boy, unsure how to approach him. It had been very convenient how after the first day, Rasmus had kept away. Harry had been prepared to keep it that way for the entire year.

"No, but you're making me," Rasmus said a little frustratedly. "Say what you got to say. If it really is something for my godfather, he will want to know before he needs to prevent it with his charts."

"Well… this dream," Harry stammered, "it's just that- I see it."

"Shocking," Rasmus couldn't help the sarcasm, but Harry shook his head, speaking before Ron could retort.

"No," he said. "No, you don't get it- I _see_ it. Right _now_, I am seeing this dream."

And in the ancient Gryffindor common room, Harry described the splatters of blood, the oozing waves of it all around that superimposed themselves before his waking eyes, and Rasmus felt a cold shiver go down his spine- and newfound respect for what it meant for anyone to sit there and calmly talk about what sounded like the scariest experience of someone who is not crazy.

Snape's son swallowed. Harry Potter had bravery, after all.

"Your Hermione is right," he said in a softer voice. "I actually can help."

***

_And that's that! Mind games, anyone? *mad cackle* _

_So, now for the reviews of the last two chapters: _

_**Stonegnome1: **__Thank you for your suggestions! None of these chapters are Beta'ed and most of them are put up the moment I type them up, no second read, simply because I don't have the time to do it. So such corrections are appreciated. As for Rasmus' reaction to Harry at first meeting: His best-suited house probably is Ravenclaw, as the Hat insisted- he actually forced it to put him in Slytherin because he has an agenda. Also, while he did try to be civil to Ron and Hermione, who Harry is was too much for Rasmus. Up to them, for Rasmus, Harry is the boy for whom his dad died. And as for why he'd go to Hogwarts- Severus didn't want him to, but he knew there was good chance Rasmus would try it anyway, as a student or teacher. _

_**Zoe Bright: **__You know garlic ice cream is a real abom- eh, I mean creation. Glad you like the wand! Olive wood is very beautiful and very hardy. And pegasi… they're pegasi! :D_

_**Sindie: **__Thank you, thank you! And well, I guess that the dead could provide some sort of mystical/occult intrigue. Many have before used the plot device. As for whodunit? We'll soon see ;) _

_**Griffin Raven**__: Thank you! I'm happy, that's what I was going for with Rasmus. As for Finn, you are right, but remember, everyone sorted anywhere has a reason to be there ;) Even Rasmus, who bullied his way in._

_**RebeccaRoy:**__ someone would do it eventually. _

_**Jellowind**__: Well remember she had no problems conspiring with shady wizards at the expense of minors… but yes it was too violent a way to go. Think of Bertie Botts jelly beans, as for the ice cream flavours. Wizards are insane. (Some muggles are, too. Garlic ice cream actually exists)_

_And that's that! See you tomorrow!_


	19. Initiating

_Hello hello, everyone!_

_So, I took two days off to read one of Sindie's fics, __The Moment it Began__, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Also, hello to everyone new aboard this story- but why won't you speak up and tell me what you think, or where you think I am taking it? It's a joy to read your thoughts. _

_So, onwards! Chapter 19._

_*** _

Rasmus pulled out his wand and brandished it a little in front of Harry, as he was looking up at him bleary eyed and haggard. He smiled a little in challenge.

"I can make the dream go away for a while. Do you trust me to cast on you?"

Harry sighed.

"What do you plan to do?"

"Charm you not to see blood dripping everywhere," Rasmus leaned on the back of sofa nearest to him. His knees were shaking and his chest felt a little constricted. He wouldn't be able to keep up his persona of superiority long. But he didn't want to take Harry to Nikos and force his already exhausted godfather to further spend energy before he could sleep. And Rasmus knew that Nikos wouldn't sleep before he was satisfied with whatever Hodd had to tell him.

"You won't knock him out, or something nasty like that, will you?" Ron spoke up. "You know; because technically he won't be seeing the dream any longer."

Rasmus glared at him but said nothing. His fingers tightened around the sofa back.

"Rasmus, only if you're sure," Hermione stammered, seemingly ambivalent between having Snape's son cast on the Boy-Who-Lived or not.

Rasmus smirked.

"Is it because I'm just out of the infirmary or because I'm a Snape?" he asked sarcastically, turning his wand lazily towards her, leaning a little more on the sofa.

"Maybe both?" Ron said under his breath. But Harry Potter winced and pulled his glasses off, pinching the crown of his nose.

"Rasmus… I bet your father told you well enough we didn't quite see eye to eye while he lived," he said, trying not to shut his eyes- because when shut, the image of the dream with the waves of blood threatening to drown him was more vivid. "But he did for me things few would even conceive, at the expense of… well… everything," Harry kept rubbing at his temple. "Will whatever you do hurt or tire you?"

Rasmus' expression became set. _Yes. But it would hurt Nikos more._

"No, not at all," he lied evenly.

"Then go ahead," Harry nodded. "Thank you."

Rasmus nodded and approached, then sat- his body sent a pang of relief up his spine as he did- opposite Harry.

"Look at me," Rasmus said softly as he leaned forward, and Harry flinched, making an odd grimace that the Slytherin couldn't account for. Nevertheless he complied, and Rasmus began waving his wand in perpetual figure eights that gradually became more and more spiraling. Harry's eyes dilated, and then Rasmus began to chant:

"_Adrotos apostasia goetus glossan, angelos oneirou prostasian._"

The words were unlike that of the usual spells the Gryffindors had been used to hearing and employing, and they rolled off Rasmus' tongue musically, mesmerizing even Ron who did not share Hermione's fascination with novel magic.

From Rasmus' wand a silvery-golden essence ensued looking like a stream of morning, glowing dew and lightly engulfed Harry's head, then was absorbed through his ears and nostrils as the older boy breathed in, and sank back a little as Rasmus ended the spell.

For a moment, nobody moved- but then Harry opened his eyes and grinned with relief.

"It- it's gone! I don't see the dream anymore, I only see what's there!" he exclaimed with glee and happiness, then grabbed Rasmus from his sagged shoulders.

"Whatever it was you did, thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me," Harry grinned.

Rasmus smiled thinly, feeling dizzy.

"I do actually have an idea," he murmured. Hermione approached then, a glass of water in her hands, while Ron approached as well with much more enthusiasm than before, sitting down next to Harry as Hermione handed Rasmus the water and waited for him to drink it.

"What was that spell?" she asked. "That was ancient greek, wasn't it? The language you chanted it in."

Rasmus nodded.

"I don't know how Potter factors in this, but seeing a dream superimposed on actual waking vision, that's a condition I know well. It's called Vortis, and it happens to those who use or have used their abilities to expand the limits of the mind," he said, drinking the water.

There was silence.

"Harry has never tried to expand his mind limit," Ron blurted out, breaking it with an incredulous expression.

"Gee, thanks, Ron," Harry said sarcastically. Rasmus couldn't help a lopsided grin. But it was Hermione's reaction that lifted all the frivolity that tried to seep into the atmosphere:

"B-but… but isn't Vortis potentially lethal?"

Rasmus said nothing.

Harry huffed.

"Well that's just typical around me, isn't it, 'Mione? I wouldn't worry, I'm still around."

"Why would seeing a dream in the same time you're awake be lethal? Freakishly creepy, okay, but why lethal?"

Rasmus shrugged.

"Because Vortis is really just a symptom. It happens because something jars the patients' mindwaves to be affected by… other things."

"Harry was trying to use some pretty intense locating spells. Maybe that's the culprit," Hermione nodded. She bit her lip.

"From the little blue book he was looking for in the bookshop before school started?" Rasmus asked, nodding towards Ron.

Harry nodded. Rasmus grinned mirthlessly.

"Did you even read the warning that these spells are for advanced Legilimens or Augurors or Devins?"

"Harry never reads the introductory notes of books," Hermione answered with a rather dry tone. "But that was why I thought to come to you before going to anyone else with what happened."

Rasmus nodded, and at that moment a bubble popped out of nowhere and chimed once.

"That's my cue," he said and got up carefully, not wanting to show just how tired he was suddenly feeling- and not from physical exercise, but from the burden of emotions, past and present. "I need to go to the infirmary. My godfather's probably there trying to fix Hodd. You can come along if you like and if Pomfrey will let you."

***

Leaving Erna Frideswide's office, Nikos' grin faded gradually, the potion in his hand and the energy it sealed in it drawing his attention as the potion mistress' warning echoed in his ears. _It's illegal for a reason._ Nikos sighed and glanced at his watch. He didn't have much time, and a coma was never an easy thing to break, wizard or no, healer or no. He would need the Apperception just to manage to do it all before whatever Dark Magic was creating the strong ripples encrypted in his chart were completed and allowed their full effect.

So, just half-way to the infirmary where the comatose Slytherin was- the Headmistress was taking a big risk with not having notified the parents in time- Nikos stopped, uncorked the tiny spherical vial and swallowed the contents in one swig. He winced immediately, as the potion rushed up like acid towards his brain, through his heart, down every tiny little nerve of his nervous system. Apperception _hurt_. Nikos leaned against the wall with both hands as tremors began taking control in bursts, and his heart beat faster and faster.

_No, control it! Control it!_

He punched the wall, forcing his mind to focus in pain _he_ controlled, away from the acid, away from the rush that threatened to consume him rather than aid him. _It's illegal for a reason._ Nikos punched again and again, until his knuckles were skinned and bloody-

-and the acidic rush of overwhelm was done.

The Greek Healer sighed, backing off the wall and straightening up, setting his shoulders. He smiled to himself, his pupils wider than usual, and crackling energy itching at his fingertips. He never felt more rested in his whole life, more powerful, capable of anything and everything- even ruling the world, even grasping at the seams of the cosmos-

"Steady, steady, Nikos lad. Don't let the potion speak for you," Nikos muttered to himself in Greek, and then began walking towards the infirmary again. The Apperception was extremely dangerous, a double-edged knife. It was hard to control not only from the moment it was ingested, but throughout its effect for it could easily fool a wizard into thinking himself invincible, unable to tire or be exhausted, and end up killing his own self just from sheer disregard for the body's and the mind's physical limitations.

He breathed in, reciting the warnings in his head as he reached the infirmary's door. Madame Pomfrey was glaring at him from her office as he walked in. He nevertheless smiled at her jauntily.

"Good morning, my dear Pomfrey!" he said, and she appeared flustered as she got up. _Too much. That's too much exuberance, Niko, tone it down,_ he ordered himself. He pulled his wand with a flourish.

Poppy approached him with a decidedly suspicious look on her face.

"Are you on anything, Mr. Galanos?" she asked, peering up at him as if he were something in a petri dish.

"Ah ha ha!" Nikos waved her off. "Of _course_ not! Now, where's that pesky prankster?" he sauntered towards the only bed still occupied in the infirmary, where Hodd lay immobile.

Poppy followed him, feeling more and more alarmed. Was the man drunk? If so, she would need to restrain him before he damaged the student further. But he didn't seem drunk. _Or quite all there._ And way too energetic for someone who, according to Professor Vector, had been up all night casting serious, taxing magic. But then again, his moves as he swished his wand to prepare Hodd for healing, showed him to be in top form as far as Poppy could tell. _Maybe it's just him._

Nikos pulled a stool next to the bed.

"I think we're quite ready to check under the Hodd," he chuckled to himself. Poppy did not understand what he was chuckling for and gripped his shoulder.

"Remember, Mr. Galanos; Hodd will be my patient after you are done; not yours."

"The matron calls the shots; got it," Nikos nodded more than he needed to and grinned again. "Not to worry, I'll ask what I need and leave him in your hands."

And without pausing even a moment, he lazily swished his wand and cast the diagnosing spell so powerfully Poppy's eyes bulged.

***

The Golden Trio took it easy, walking back towards the infirmary, and Rasmus nearly lagged behind. He didn't like the looks he was getting, being seen by the students walking to breakfast surrounded by Gryffindors, and _these_ Gryffindors especially. Finn had disappeared apparently, or he was already in the main hall piling up on pancakes.

"Could I please ask you a question?"

It was asked gently, and in a quiet voice, by Hermione. Rasmus noticed that Harry and Ron were up ahead, while she had matched her pace to his. He shrugged.

"I may not answer."

"What did you cast on Harry? I mean, I know it was a fix for Vortis-"

Rasmus shook his head. He unconsciously scratched at his forearms, where the traces of the lesions began to itch.

"It's not a fix. Just a temporary relief remedy. It's a greek spell, adapted from Asclepius' original ancient chants. It's rough translation would be 'the ethereal mind shield'."

"Oh," Hermione said, and her heart clenched. Something in the younger teenager's expression and the ease with which he cast the spell told her he had used it often in the past. Since it was now widely known, thanks to the _Prophet_, that Rasmus' mother had dabbled in dangerous magic, it wouldn't surprise Hermione if…

But Rasmus remained silent, teeth clenched, and she had enough compassion and insight to know that if she asked further, Snape's son would never, ever answer.

***

Isis slipped on the golden finger-sheathes. She never used wands- feeble magical conduits- when she could have _enhancers_ to channel her magic through. In front of her there lay her lover, swathed in the bandages that bound him and kept his body in the state all mortal Pharaohs had mimed- but not accomplished. For her lover would rise, while they would rot, hollowed out and stuffed with linen as they were. A just punishment for their insolence to strive to be like _them_, when they had been essentially muggles.

Isis smiled and splayed her fingers, calling the canopic jars to her. Her lover's canopic jars did not hold his organs, as everyone was led to think. No; they were there to receive the organs _of others_, so that with her magic her lover would be reanimated. Dolohov and the straggling remains of the pitiful gang Tom Riddle had banded had done a good job bringing her victims that filled the requirements for the Stomach, the Intestines, the Lungs- and most important of all, the Liver: the one organ through which her lover's Heart would beat again.

She glanced to the left, where the canopic chest lay- the vessel of dead matter that would hold the flesh of past vanquished power along with the flesh of the dead vanquisher. This is where the Hearts she retrieved under the guise of Filch's form from the graves of Dumbledore and Snape would reside, their rancidity and decomposition fuel to her lover- until she retrieved what Gryffindor and Slytherin stole from her.

Then she would return to the cradle of the ancient world, together with her lover, and resume her reign that had been stolen from her so shrewdly.

"My lady," Dolohov said with a respectful bow, "we are ready to begin."

Under the power of his wand, he was holding a live jackal immobile. Indeed, everything was ready.

Isis turned to the wrapped up, ancient and enchanted bandages of nettle and milkweed that held her lover's body, waiting for reanimation, and began to speak in her own, native, ancient tongue of power:

"_I piece you together once again, my Ausar, Osiris, Heart of Hearts. Receive the blood of Death into your veins, let your Heart pump it and wake you. Leave your position in the underworld and make your underlings and enemies keep it for you…_"

Isis weaved her gold-wrapped fingers in the air until the gold began to glow and shift like fire. The black of her pupils seemed to widen until all of her eye was onyx, and her olive skin became bronze under the power of the spell the ancient witch invoked.

Dolohov did not dare move, since he had been ordered to keep the jackal still until Isis killed it, but when the bandages began to unwrap, and a hand with a greenish tint emerged, clawish fingers with dead, raisin-black nails on them scratching at the seams, he couldn't help thinking that if he hadn't just made a terrible mistake, he had placed the winning bet.

***

_And that's that! I hope you like this. I must admit I am used to far more feedback from readers, so why don't you procure some more reviews for me? You too, lurking readers, I want to hear your thoughts, as I am shooting for something rather experimental here._

_For sure you all now have caught at how far back this evil is going to take us? (it's not a small story after all… who was I kidding?) _

_**Griffin Raven**__: Thank you for your very interesting review! I would wait before fully interpreting the dream's significance, but you are right in that most will think it's Harry's guilt that is procuring it. I didn't much appreciate Snape's manner of death either, but I think JK thrives on that sort of thing. Rasmus wants to avoid his father's portrait at the moment… heh heh heh. _

_**Sindie:**__ Thank you very much! I am trying something rather bold here, so here's hoping it succeeds. I think it will, but I'm still keeping my fingers crossed that readers will feel as much too._

_**Zoe Bright**__: Isis is suspicious eh? That she definitely is! Harry is pivotal in this story, as is Rasmus. I am planning to update daily in the weekdays, barring crisis management with clients :) _


	20. Restoration

_Hey hey everyone! _

_It's finally beginning to be really chilly here, and my bad knee doesn't like it. :( _

_But anyway, onwards! Chapter 20. (already!) _

***

The bandages unwrapped slowly and lazily, detaching from the layer beneath with an odd, rather off-putting sound of skin being peeled off and cracking, as the resin broke to release the ancient, _very_ ancient fabrics swathing the mummy. Isis continued to chant, weaving her fingers as Dolohov was keeping the jackal stunned and immobile. He could hear the animal make doglike whimpering sounds of fear. But the worst of it all, was that the mummy was _moving_.

It shouldn't be anything too much, Dolohov was vainly trying to convince himself, to see a corpse being animated, but this was different. The whole room had dimmed, and the roaring crackling fire of the fireplace had petered out, licking the logs pitifully with thin, bluish tongues. The ex-Death Eater had assumed when Isis had first recruited him that she was something like Bellatrix- batty but very powerful, and that was why she was wearing the headdress and keeping everything in a distinct Egyptian style around her, when she was not hiding.

But now, Dolohov knew she was _the_ Isis- the ancient goddess of the Egyptian pantheon, and the living proof that the theory that at least some of the ancient gods had been wizards or witches was true. Dolohov shivered, and wished he could just not listen to the creepy ancient tongue chanting spells so powerful that challenged even Nature itself. Dolohov had thought that there would be no line he wouldn't be willing to cross for power, but this… pressing of impeding doom upon his heart… this was _frightening_:

Before his eyes, Isis' words seemed to make the very fabric of reality ripple, and in the darkness of the room as the light dimmed- despite the fact that it was still daylight time outside- an odd sort of mire and silt materialized, slithering like contaminating ooze up the walls nearest to where the mummy lay, the canopic jars and chest right next to it. Dolohov stared as he realized it was a gate.

It was a gate, and it was opening with the deep, heavy groan of an ageless iron guard that had never before been breached to allow for Hell to vomit one of its claims from its infernal innards.

Except now.

***

Hodd gasped, opening his eyes, but they were glassy, unseeing, and his body barely responsive under Nikos' powerful magic. The Healer spelled the necessary potion in the boy's stomach, and the faster acting one he had had brewed exactly for this purpose, in his bloodstream. Hodd yelled at the intrusive sensations of the potions, but he did not slip back into unconsciousness. Nikos grinned at him in between the few seconds of wait for spells to kick in.

"Wakey, wakey, kid," he said buoyantly. "We need to chat!"

Hodd blinked at him, swiveling on the mattress but without much success of moving his body. When he realized he couldn't move, fear filled the Slytherin fifth year's eyes.

"Who… who are _you_?" the boy slurred. Nikos grinned a little too much.

"Me? I'm Mr. Snape's godfather, and here just for _you_."

Hodd began to scream and Nikos laughed, swishing his wand. Poppy began to hover, but Nikos shook his head.

"Not to worry, Poppy love! Screaming like a banshee will help bring him to better awareness! _Viguratus Mens!_"

Poppy Pomfrey simply stared, but then she shook herself into action.

"Do stop screaming, Mr. Hodd!" she huffed at the boy. "Mr. Galanos is a Healer."

Nikos simply cast a silencing charm along with his healing ones when Hodd just continued his yelling, and chuckled again. The Healer's charms and spells were massive in power, and what would normally need hours to yield effects, did so now in minutes. Poppy had seen nothing like it before- because not only did the spells work faster, but because the extensive wand work did not allow the body to be shocked by the healing speed. _Even if he is on something- and I am quite certain he is- this takes skill, brilliance,_ she couldn't help thinking, and about turned to quickly leave. Such a Healer would need to be salvaged, and Poppy would be damned if Nikos Galanos was not.

Nikos leaned back, lowering his wand as he inspected his work. The boy was breathing heavily, looking at him, now saving his breath because of the silencing charm. There was only the faintest sign of tremor in his movements, a very small lack of focus in the pupils, and the heart palpitations would set to proper beats of a teenage heart with bedrest. Yes, if the boy didn't exert himself and stayed in bed for the week- and he knew Poppy would even employ sticking charms to keep him there- with a few metabolism leveling potions, he'd be right as rain. _Not bad at all. Thanks Apperception potion! You made me shrink three days into three hours!_

"So," Nikos said cheerfully, "Hodd, lad, will you tell me some things I _desperately_ need to know?"

Hodd just stared, and Nikos chuckled and removed the silencing charm.

"S-s-sorry! I- I won't _ever_ trouble Sn- Rasmus again!" Hodd whimpered, gripping at his blanket tremulously.

"That's nice," Nikos nodded. "That makes me happy. Now, here's what I need to know: who set you up, kid?"

Hodd swallowed.

"I-I …never wanted to …but… my mind… I-I- was _told_-" the boy sniffled. Nikos nodded.

"That was the Imperio curse cast on you. That much I already knew from what Harry Potter told the Headmistress. What I want you to tell me is who helped you or told you to lure Rasmus in the courtyard. Because that's what happened, isn't it?"

The cheerfulness was suddenly gone from Nikos' voice, and Hodd's skin crawled. He knew not to lie to this clearly insane man.

"R-rita. Rita S-Skeeter," he said. "She t-taught me the j-jinx, and g-gave me some of the questions for th-the owls for… this year. Y'know… in- in return."

Nikos shook his head.

"And who attacked Rasmus?"

Hodd's eyes widened even more and his breath caught. He cowered even more below the covers.

"No! You- nobody will believe me! Nobody!" he gasped.

"Tell me anyway," Nikos said. "Now- I haven't got all day, and I can be irritated. An irritated healer is a nasty thing, mr. Hodd."

"Skeeter," squeaked Hodd, "and… and P-professor Bai… and F-f-f-filch…"

Nikos stood, scraping the chair backwards.

"Thanks, kid," he said. "You rest now."

He started for the door, and Hodd began to relax, but then Nikos pulled his wand again and nearly pounced the boy.

"Oh, and Hodd?" he whispered. "If you ever even _think_ of hurting Rasmus again, I will know- and then _you_ will know what sort of pain spells a medic knows." Nikos smiled and tapped Hodd's cheek with his wand's tip as he straightened again. "Sweet dreams, kid."

And he jogged out, and towards the north wing. Such was his hurry that he didn't even see Harry, Ron, Hermione and Rasmus who were lingering at the door.

"Remind me never to get on your godfather's bad side," Ron whistled, and Rasmus chuckled.

***

Very soon the room was completely dark, like a never-ending tunnel, and in the deepest end, Dolohov could see the ember glow of whatever fire the souls of the damned fueled. He back stepped, glancing once at Isis- her back was turned to him, facing the glowing crimson glow, expectant, her arms spread to her sides like the falcon wings that were her symbol so much. He didn't want to have been lured to this ceremony only to be sacrificed for the mummy she was seeking to animate. He didn't want to be shoved towards the tunnel in place of-

Of the tall, spindle-like shade of a figure that seemed to emerge, with two smoldering coals for eerie eyes that glowed as it began approaching.

"One more step, Antonin, and your nightmare _shall_ be granted," purred Isis in English, her voice light and dreamy as she waited for the shadow to approach. "Ready the jackal, Antonin…"

Dolohov swallowed, his skin crawling and didn't dare utter a word. He jerked his wand once and the jackal was thrush towards the pile of bandages as Isis resumed her chanting and the figure of the spindly shadow approached more and more, until it stepped up to the feebly spastic body the bandages were still slowly unwrapping. Then Isis seemed to cup her hands, still murmuring in her ancient tongue, and the casket containing the Heart Scarab opened. The pendant rose from inside, and dipped in the blood until it somehow absorbed every drop.

Then, the scarab's wings shivered, and the pendant flew towards the mummy, and buried itself inside. As if that was a cue, the bandages unwrapped all the way extremely quickly, revealing the body of a very tall, broad shouldered, fleshless man with green tinted skin lying on his back, arms flailing but still returning to their folded up position on his chest. The moment the bandages revealed the body, the spindly shadow dove inside it, and the tall man arched backwards with a horrible gasp that made Dolohov want to disapparate- he didn't dare.

"Osiris, my Ausar, my Heart of Hearts, feast upon the blood of Death, and let the Hearts of your enemies take the place you abandoned," Isis coaxed and commanded and compelled in the same time, making feather-gentle movements in the air with her gold-tipped fingers.

Osiris sat up and his fleshless, pin-sharp fingers latched upon the jackal's head as his mouth opened to devour the flesh and reach the arteries at the neck, where he suckled like a vampire. Dolohov let up the spell, and hoped he was not drawing attention to himself. The canopic jars began to glow, as the dead body began to lust for life. But they didn't open. The stylistic heads that served for lids came to life instead, and from their mouths a sort of essence ensued, that Osiris' body absorbed. The more he did, the more he fleshed out, muscles regrowing and knitting securely on and around the bones, until it was not a mummy any longer, but a man that was killing the animal with the same coolness and efficiency of a spider sucking on its web's victim.

Isis restored the canopic jars to the chest, and then their lids opened, and the two hearts she had stolen from the tombs in Hogwarts were claimed inside. The eyes of the jackal head lids glowed. The chant was complete, Osiris was here. She smiled triumphantly. One more step left before she could go to where she could reclaim her seat of power.

Osiris stood up in his full height, and raised his arms fingers splayed until the dark tunnel his soul had come from disappeared, the fire in the fireplace resumed its crackling burning, and the daylight was again filtering in the room through the blinds. The bandages merged like quicksilver into one single strip, and wrapped around Osiris' chest to keep the Heart Scarab secure inside- and then they disappeared upon his yet greenish-looking skin. Dolohov could see very thin lighter-coloured scars criss crossing his entire body, as if it had once been chopped into pieces and then fused together again. The jackal fell to the side, fleshless and dry of any living juice and the man threw it with force away from him. It landed near the ex-Death Eater. He shivered, and knelt for good measure. _Isis is definitely the real deal. If she does not kill me, she can bring me back if I get dead but she still needs me. So I'll make sure she does._

"Isis, my Usat," Osiris finally spoke. "Have you my life?"

Osiris' voice was a deep baritone. Dolohov noticed that while he was bald, hair was beginning to grow thick, growing longer as the minutes passed. He seemed unconcerned with nakedness, just as Isis was if she chose to be.

"Call for it, and it shall come," Isis said, taking a single step towards her lover.

Osiris splayed his fingers in the same manner Isis had, and the lapis lazuli ankh flew in his hand, where it transfigured into a deep sycamore-coloured wand inlaid with the dark blue gemstone. It was then that he called Isis to his embrace, and kissed her deeply, the remains of the jackal's blood still coating his dark lips.

Isis moaned.

***

"Pomfrey doesn't seem to be here, so I'll just help myself to my potion," Rasmus said and walked to the matron's desk, where she had a small array of four one-dose vials of Blood Replenisher. Snape's son took one, uncorked it and drank.

"Hodd! You're awake!" Hermione exclaimed, amazed that the boy had broken through his coma so fast.

"Godfather did say he'd cure Hodd today," Rasmus said, opening Poppy's top drawer and retrieving a chocolate frog from inside, taking the usual reward for swallowing potions. "Not that he deserves it."

"That _loon_ of a healer threatened me, Snape!" Hodd screamed from his bed, keeping his blanket tightly around himself. "What kind of healer threatens a sick kid?"

"Not many," Rasmus drawled, "but I guess uncle Nikos saw through your charade and realized you're just a sleaze dungball, Hodd."

"-and he_ questioned me_!" Hodd still ranted, shaking a very shaky fist.

Harry approached and tilted his head.

"Well, it's what you get for messing with Snape," he said with a smirk. "What did he ask you?"

"And do you know where he's going?" Hermione asked.

"I'm going to tell my dad about this!" Hodd screamed instead. "I'll tell him I am dying, and he'll have your heads!"

Ron was about to smirk and threaten with transfiguration into a bouncing ferret, but he was never given the chance. Harry winced, grabbed at his temples and sank to his knees near Hodd's bed, his eyes wide and fearful as they gazed upon things nobody else could see.

"Oh, shit," Rasmus' voice was heard in Greek.

***

_And that's that! Tomorrow, we finally get to meet our two new bad guys- a bad guy couple, how cute! Isn't it? *crickets* Oh, come ON! Two hot ancient people that may or may NOT be mummies! (Well, technically, Isis IS a mummy, ya know… Horus' mummy… *ducks flying frame from Snape*) _

_Also, we get to see what we are looking against here- as in, what the stakes and goals (ok, maybe SOME of the goals) are. So here's the deal: _

_NEW QUESTION FOR Y'ALL: __**How much do you want me to turn the Evil!Meter? As we have it now, it can go from Evil, to MegaEvil, to HumongousEvil. (I'll up the rating accordingly). **__Anyway, you tell me. My version of evil is truly scary evil as my bad guys don't get caught monologuing often. *snickers*_

_**Zoe Bright: **__Yes it is! I have decided to take weekends off to read (and review abundantly) the fics of everyone who leaves me comments. And when I run out of those, go see what else is out there. :D I'm happy you like the trio and Rasmus! We'll see them a LOT. (and Snape's portrait, too) _

_**RebeccaRoy:**__ 'Twas intended ;) _

_**Sindie**__: Yay someone laughed with that one! (I did, too. I laugh at my own jokes…) You liked Rasmus' spell? I forgot to say what the words meant, as they are Greek. It roughly (as it is ancient greek meaning, not modern greek meaning) it would mean something like "Cut [like] a sword the allure of the wizard's tongue, herald dreams' protection" with horribly bad ancient greek syntax. ;) You remember your Egyptology too! That's quite right, and more or less the basic premise. Now on to the second premise… and maybe explain why Isis wound up in Britain! _

_**Anon**__: Yay, hello lurker! I am SO HAPPY to hear from you! We will definitely find out all about his past before the story is done, and Isis too is to be explained. _

_And that's that! Till tomorrow! _

_Review please, __I need your thoughts and opinions and I will reply (and if it gets too much, put up an 'author's note') ___


	21. Realisation

_Hey hey everyone! _

_I am generally tired, but I felt I had to update today, and see what happens next. This story snuck up on me, and from a small cute short story, it got struck with engorgio and now is promising to be something like forty chapters long (gasp!). But at least it's fun. ;) _

_So, onwards! Chapter 21._

***

Immediately, Rasmus took out his wand, approaching Harry to cast his odd greek spell again. Harry was as if frozen, grasping at his temples, but after that initial expression of fright, his eyes began to be more focused, more interested in whatever it was they were seeing.

"Rasmus, you're bleeding!" Hermione cried out, and indeed, beads of bright red blood had made their appearance along the most prominent of his thin scars where the veins had split open. Rasmus frowned, puzzled, but then he shook his head.

"Never mind," he said irritably and turned his wand towards Harry. "As long as it doesn't get worse."

"No," Harry said suddenly, his voice far away. "I-I need to see this."

"Harry!" Ron begged. "What if-if it cooks your brains?"

"Ron, give me that book!" Hermione said, and Ron just handed her the small blue volume. She furiously leafed through its pages. Rasmus was trying not to scratch the itching scars on his forearms, and glaring Hodd into silence while Harry fell silent again, ever watching.

Ron bit his lip, wringing his hands.

"What are you going-"

"_Locus Radix!_" Hermione bellowed pointing her wand upwards.

"…do?" Ron's voice faded in his throat as he glanced upwards at the silvery globe forming, beginning to pinpoint the location Hermione ordered.

***

Nikos' jaw was set as he rushed to his room and the arithmancy table. The kid had no idea what he had told him, but Hodd had just given the Auguror enough information to not only locate where the dark wizards performing the Heretic were, but for him to stop it.

"Aello, I won't let you down," he muttered as he sprinted to the room, past Trelawney's room and Trelawney herself, up the trap door and finally skidded in front of the table in the room.

He whipped out his wand to call up the chart, but Apperception nearly made that redundant- just with his hand movement the chart unfurled and the letters became silver, levitating into the air. Nikos smiled as he glanced across the equations and spelled in the new information. He didn't know who the actual wizards had been, and could not code in an imprint for them- but he _could_ code in for Bai and Filch tied in to the dark magic equation. The polyjuice would have worn off, but not the trace of the wizard across the chart. And using the homing in spells in the little blue book and the sheet Rasmus had copied out for him from the library, he'd be able to _solve_ the equations to find the two unknown x's- those who had come for blood and bodies.

He smiled as he performed the mathematics required with speed he had not had before- and he was good at math. His eyes lit up amber as the letters began dancing around him, just like they had in his room in Hogsmeade, about to spread and form what to his eyes, would be time and space, and to everyone else's eyes, equations developing on the floor and walls.

Letting the numbers form images for him, and open the time-space vortex only an Auguror could access, Nikos grinned and gripped his wand.

"Let's see who I find down this rabbit hole, big sis," he whispered.

Then the numbers wrapped around his head, and he gasped- but this time, he didn't fall and he didn't bleed, because the equations were correct, and the Apperception gave him the energy he needed, and wouldn't have had, to see them through.

***

Osiris growled, breaking the kiss with Isis.

"It's not right," he said in their native tongue. "It's not right!"

Isis frowned.

"My Ausar, it can't be wrong," she purred, stroking his angular cheek. "Everything was as last time."

"No- the replacement- _not right!_" Osiris growled and yanked the lids off the canopic jars, where the hearts of the last two headmasters lay, bound under Isis' magic, the anchor that kept Osiris' soul from being claimed back to the Underworld; a replacement, a forfeit for Death to stay its hand while she and Osiris went to retrieve what Slytherin and Gryffindor stole.

Isis stayed his hand.

"Let me, husband," she ordered, and Osiris stepped back with a growl. He turned his head while Isis examined the hearts in the canopic jars, as if drawn to the breathing of the only other living being in the room.

Dolohov gasped and tried to pull out his wand, but was no match for Osiris' lazy flick with his odd lazuli-inlaid one. He was in the air, immobile, in no time.

"What is this, Usat?" he asked, scrutinizing the ex-Death Eater as if he was a curiosity.

"He is a pet, dear. Learn from him and keep him," Isis said, splaying her fingers over the jars.

Dolohov felt his bowels threatening to loosen as Osiris came near. He was nothing like Voldemort, and Voldemort had been already scary enough. Osiris was tall, broad shouldered, well muscled. His hair was shoulder length and smooth, falling in dark brown straight tresses. His eyes were almond shaped and very dark, lit with an unearthly fire that terrified Dolohov- it felt like he was reading him through, and did not even need Voldemort's Legilimency to do it. What was he doing? Dolohov was powerless, as if under imperio or a cobra's mesmerizing lock of glances. Osiris' thin lipped mouth curved upwards into a smile. His jaw was square and strong, and though he had crisscrossing scars on his face, he was certainly a handsome man- even with the green tint in his complexion.

But Dolohov found he was frightened infinitely more than when gazing into Voldemort's snake-like visage. Osiris was handsome and terrible, with a calm sinister air that spelled deadly power with the ease of a breath. It was worse to look upon that icy calmness than Voldemort's self-absorbed grin.

But then suddenly, he was dropped in a heap on the floor.

"Thank you for the lesson," Osiris told him in clear, non-accented English. "Your language has a funny sound- and your skills… always usable, Antonin Dolohov."

"Th-thank you, master," Dolohov uttered, fearful of whether he was speaking out of line but also fearful not to speak and displease the ancient wizard.

"Kherew!" Isis swore in her native tongue. "Someone knew we were coming beforehand. These are swine hearts- with some excellent transfiguration skills."

Osiris strode to where Isis was standing.

"That won't do for more than a few days, Usat," he said calmly. "What will you do?"

Isis was about to answer, but then her eyes flashed once, and the golden feathers in her headdress seemed to fluff out in warning.

"Someone wants to play, dearest," she murmured, and splayed her fingers, making the atmosphere pulse.

***

Professor Bai grit his teeth as he threw in a pinch of floo and waited for the one he wanted to call.

"Guiren!" the young woman in the flames blinked. "What did I tell you about flooing here?"

"I need you to come through on that wizard's debt you owe me, Susan- remember? While your leg still felt wobbly."

There was a small pause, then she said:

"Fine. What do you want me to do for you?"

"I want you to see what leads there are that can link any wizard to a scarab symbol. Also any action regarding Death Eater activity the Ministry kept a lid on. Can you do that for me?"

"Guiren you know I have only worked in my position for what, nearly twelve months now? I don't have that kind of access," Susan sighed and seemed eager to pull herself out of the fireplace.

"Yes but your aunt from the Wizengamot does. You can do this for me, Susan- and I won't ever ask anything from you again."

Susan Bones bent her head.

"I'll see what I can find," she said, and the fire returned to normal.

"She won't find nearly enough," came Snape's voice from the portrait. Bai glared up at the man.

"Seeing as my access to the Headmistress' confidence is limited, I'll play with whatever cards I have in my hand."

Severus Snape eyed the resident Defense professor for a moment, then he clicked his tongue and replied:

"I may regret sharing this with you, Bai, but in my experience as a spy, I have found that going to interrogate those closer to the- victims, shall we say, yields the best kind of information."

Bai glared.

"Was that why your sort went to my house that night?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Snape sneered, his lip curling. "Voldemort was merely interested in making a show out of you for every other Auror with a family to consider. Have you even realized what I have just _advised_ you to do, or are you too much of a Hufflepuff to get it?"

Bai seemed to count to five before answering, but then he exhaled and said:

"I'll go question Skeeter's associate, Snape. Just as soon as I'm not under McGonagall's scrutiny."

"You will find it is easier if you simply ask her," Snape said and relinquished the portrait to its rightful owner in Bai's office.

***

Augury manifested in thin silvery and golden threads that pieced together the time and space defined by the equations. Nikos waited as it materialized around him, and before him, the voluptuous figure of a woman became to be silhouetted and filled in. Nikos knew this was the imprint of the one who had raided the tombs of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, and so he prepared to stop the weaving or anchoring of the spell that she was casting.

The figure, before it was yet properly delineated attacked with an odd dance-like movement that Nikos nearly didn't understand was a wordless curse flying his way. He blocked with his wand, making the dimensions around the two duelers pulsate, still forming.

"_Prehendo Veneficus Flumen!_" Nikos bellowed and the spell erupted from his wand like a bluish web of a spider that wove thunder. The woman shrieked for a moment before beginning to undo the spell- but it bought Nikos enough time for the Augury to be complete. For however long he would have the energy to uphold the chart so the equations would continue to unfurl, he would have merged time and space and he would actually _be_ where this woman was, and interact in _her_ environment. The woman grinned lustily as she finally locked her dark brown eyes with his.

"Isis!" Nikos blurted out.

"You failed, _Dovev_," Iris cackled. "My Ausar is with me."

No! Aello had battled this. She had dealt with her followers in Delphi just like their parents had in Abydos. Her anchors had been destroyed! And Eleni had reported _killing Isis_ herself! How was it all possible? How could she have managed to call _him_, who needed those he had come here to incinerate just so that this couple could not come back again?

His surprise nearly cost him his life, and he was thrown back with what seemed a blast of bright light- it felt as if a thousand tendrils of electric current lashed at him, like the tentacles of a deadly jellyfish. He barely had the time to utter a counter, and only because as a Healer he knew what would protect his vitals. He didn't even recognize the curse, except that it was of the ancient type his sister had researched and dabbled in.

"It can't be you," he muttered in Greek, but then grit his teeth and jabbed his wand forward in an intricate movement.

"_Prehendo Stasis!_" he shouted again, and just as Isis went to protect herself, Nikos cast his initial curse at the _other_ one present in the room. No matter how it was rendered possible, despite everyone's efforts and what had initially began as a precaution by the Head of the Athenian School, Nikos would at least put a stopper to it now.

Neither Isis nor Osiris did expected Nikos to choose him as a target rather than Isis herself and so he received the curse upon his chest. The ancient wizard crumbled backwards with a groan, and Isis yelled in ire.

"I am your opponent! You unworthy _keftiou_! _Hanana Vadha!_" she pointed her two index fingers at him, and Nikos knew that if this was not the ancient equivalent of Avada Kedavra, it was very close.

He therefore yelled the one protection he knew was strongest. _Here's to the test, Aello!_

"_Panakeias Aegis Epikaloumae!"_ he whispered, turning his wand upon himself just fractions of a second before Isis' spell hit home.

And back in the sixth floor of the north wing, a body crashed through the heavy wooden door of the arithmancy-devoted room, and fell in a heap upon the aisle, just as Poppy Pomfrey figured out how to use the trapdoor, with Sybil Trelawney's help.

***

Harry fell backwards upon the bed, nearly hitting his head against the corner of the cot Hodd was on, and Rasmus frowned, the itch suddenly gone. Ron rushed to help his friend just as Hermione ended her homing spell.

"Harry, mate? Are you okay?" Ron asked anxiously, wondering just where Pomfrey was- she never was away from the infirmary for this long.

Harry nodded dazedly.

"I- I'm fine."

"Can you still see the dream?" Rasmus asked with the same clipped urgency Harry remembered the potions master to have used.

"N-no," Harry muttered, rubbing his head. "I can't see it… but…"

"The spell was bollocks," Hermione huffed. "All it showed me was London's British museum- the _Muggle_ British museum."

"Then it can't but be right- because what I saw was some guy getting mummified by a jackal headed bloke," Harry said. "But like creating Horcruxes- different trinkets again- for the dead guy, and making all sorts of blood spill everywhere around, while he was performing –"

"Stop!" Rasmus said, raising a palm. The beads of blood had already coagulated on his forearms and hands. "Tell that when my godfather's there to listen. This- this is what he's come here to wrap up, to stop once and for…"

And then the teen's eyes widened, and he gasped.

"Something's happened to him!"

***

_And that's that! In the coming chapter, we finally LEARN BACKSTORY! Yay! The how's and why's around Rasmus, Nikos, Aello, Severus, and how they chose to come to Britain now will be revealed! _

… _oh, and we might explain just what happened here. *snickers* And what is that other name Isis used for Nikos?_

_Ooooh, isn't this beginning to be truly fun now? Please drop me notes to answer, and read, as a reward for all this effort to entertain y'all! :D _

_As per the spell words: _

'_Locus Radix' is bad latin for 'locate goal/target'._

'_Prehendo' ones are supposed to arrest/ interrupt/ abruptly stop a caster's bond to whatever magic target they have. So the 'Flumen' one was nikos' attempt to stop any spell whatsoever (he wasn't aware of the full situation yet)__ 'Prehendo Stasis' was a spell to stop the reanimation/ life-support spell that is giving Osiris access to the world of the living. _

_The next one is supposed to be really ancient, and is in Sanskrit dialect. It literally means (according to dictionaries) 'killing' so it's a killing spell. _

_The counter Nikos chants is also ancient, so it's in Greek and it is a powerful shield, it means 'I call/ summon a shield of universal healing' _

_**Zoe Bright**__: Thank you for this wonderful review! Is Apperception so grand? We'll find out very soon ;) Well, my evil tends to be… truly evil anyway. I just can't write a silly bad guy, no matter how much I try. Hee hee! How do you find this chappy then? Oh, and about Severus… Augurors __**can**__ summon spirits, ya know… (this is NOT a spoiler or foreshadowing!... for now…) _

_**Sindie:**__ Here you go! Update! Do ya like it? _

_**Duj:**__ Still not sure whether that is a vote for more evil. _

_**Rebecca Roy:**__ Pretty close to that, yes. Horcrux-like spells with a twist. :)_

_Till tomorrow! _


	22. Early Histories

_Hello,hello! _

_So, let's get right down to business, and see what happens, eh? _

_Onwards, chapter 22! _

_*** _

Isis cursed the potency of Augury- it was the single only type of magic that would not be phased by anti-apparition wards or concealment charms. She had not expected that accursed Galanos able to find enough for his blasted charts to be able to find her in time- apparently either the Skeeter woman had not died, which was unlikely, or the other kid in that school Gryffindor and his buddies had been so proud of did not actually commit a decent suicide. Either the case, Isis nodded to herself, she would not make the same oversight again, nor would she underestimate her enemies.

Osiris was writhing on the floor, but he was relatively calm.

"Usat, need another," he croaked out, and Isis knew exactly what he meant. The Greek's curse had undone a very big part of her anchoring magic to keep her lover amongst the living. The blood in Hatnofer's Heart Scarab had become inactive, and Osiris would be reduced to mummified remains again if she was not quick.

She turned to Dolohov and smiled.

"Antonin, I need your services," she said in her smooth, velvety voice. "Come forward."

Dolohov obeyed, bowing. This was his chance to prove to Isis he was indispensable.

"Anything, my lady."

"Do you wish to live, Antonin? How high is your desire for survival?"

Dolohov's brow beaded with cold sweat. Was she threatening him?

"I will do anything to live, my lady," he said, trying not to let his voice waver. "That was our binding contract when you found me. My servitude for my life."

Isis smiled triumphantly.

"That is exactly what I needed to hear, my dear," she said. "_Sensim Iuguolo!_"

The deep purple lightning of the spell flew from her golden-tipped fingers and enshrouded Dolohov, who began to scream, eyes widening. His veins began to slit open, releasing his blood everywhere where his skin was exposed to the air, and as he breathed in to scream, more ruptured down his esophagus and in his lungs. It wasn't long before his carotids burst, and his life blood was pouring out- and Isis gently, very carefully approached the dying man, avoiding his shaking limbs in his throes of death, and gathered up a _full_ vial of his blood. Not like that Skeeter had done with Aello's son.

She then returned to Osiris, pressed her splayed palm upon his chest until the bandages appeared again, and poured the new blood upon the Heart Scarab pulsating at a heart's beat underneath. Osiris immediately breathed in relief, and Isis stepped back to allow him to collect himself and stand.

"You know this is only a temporary remedy, Usat," Osiris said affectionately. "That rat's blood is not good enough for Ausar."

"I know, husband," Isis nodded. "Just as the swine hearts are not. But never worry; we will retrieve the ones that will grant you full power, before we leave this country."

Osiris seemed skeptical as he picked up his wand again, and made Dolohov's body disappear.

"You know the Galanos clan is very cautious; the bodies will have been incinerated."

"Ah, but there are margins for Dark Magic, my love," purred Isis as she retrieved a dark blue robe and affectionately draped it around Osiris' shoulders. "The hearts of the vanquishers of the former Dark Master are to be used for your forfeit in the Underworld; Voldemort was kind enough to be beaten by more than one wizard, if one looks at it the right way."

"Ah," Osiris said. "You _must_ relate that man's story to me, Isis- the Underworld does not get much news. Who must we seek out?"

"Well, it appears that those that will have to be sent to the Underworld instead of you, my love, are Harry Potter and Minerva McGonagall- after all, she _did_ lead everyone against old Tom Riddle…" chuckled Isis playfully. "Which is convenient, because Aello's son, who will donate his blood for you, is where they are, too."

Osiris smiled and stroked Isis' hair.

"That, then, is simply perfect, Usat."

***

Madame Pomfrey shrieked as she saw the door erupt and Nikos' body land at the other side of the corridor in a flurry of debris. Sybil Trelawney was the one to rush forward, muttering 'oh dear, oh dear, I had forseen this', and set to removing the heaviest pieces of the door off the crumpled man.

"Careful, Sybil! Don't pull any wood there might be in him," Pomfrey said as she found her own readiness and rushed forward as well. She inspected Nikos' form as she quickly moved her wand over him to see the list of injuries.

The auguror was not actually bleeding profusely. He was deathly pale and his eyes seemed sealed shut. His breathing was nearly non existent and for a moment Poppy was frightened that the man was dead. She went down on her knees next to him, and ensuring that he did not have a broken spine, she turned him over.

"He's been cursed," she said in a puzzled voice. "Diagnostics tell me he's sustained spell injuries. But how?"

"I'd foreseen this," Trelawney moaned unhelpfully. Poppy clicked her tongue.

"Why don't you foresee who's coming, and get me some help, Sybil?" she snapped, twirling her wand over Nikos. It amazed her that such a spectacular smashing through a heavy wooden door had not resulted in any broken bones- until she felt the quickly fading traces of a magical shield of some sort. Whatever had happened, the man had tried to protect himself.

Trelawney obeyed, with a readiness that never failed to surprise Poppy, shouting for help. Poppy conjured a stretcher for Nikos and put him on it very gently. It was when she moved him that she became truly frightened- the man's body shook and convulsed, and blood and bile began choking him. Poppy quickly turned him to the side and helped him spew the geyser of blood, berating herself for not checking for internal injuries like some sort of rookie. _But you did check_, her self objected, and what that implied about Nikos' state and the curse that had hit him made her gut freeze.

"What happened, Poppy?" shouted Erna Frideswide, nearly stumbling over her own robes to get to the site. "What's the matter with him?"

"Erna, help me- I dare not move him, but I can't treat him here," Poppy said. "And I dare not use a spell on him while I am not sure what he got hit with."

Frideswide bit her lip, then she waved her wand at the pieces of the broken door, and transfigured around Nikos a muggle spine board and several medical straps and equipment designed to keep a patient completely immobile.

"There," she said. "We can now levitate him to the infirmary."

Poppy nodded and swished her wand, spelling the stretcher to float ahead of her. The corridors were empty when they got back down, and Poppy realized Minerva had cleared them of students, leaving only Rasmus and the Golden Trio present. Rasmus was silent as his eyes took in the state of his godfather, and he appeared extremely calm, except for the hand he brought to his mouth, watching the stretcher float past.

***

Once in the infirmary, Erna and Poppy set to working on Nikos. It was tedious work stemming the internal bleeding- it took them a while to realize that the point of the curse was to cause multiple internal bleeding sites that would end up in death by cerebral hemorrhage. But Poppy was extremely fast, stemming each and everyone of the sites the curse worked at, until it had run its circle and faded, leaving behind a devastated, but yet living, organism.

But the hard part came after- and not because of any curse that had been shot at Nikos, but because of the Apperception potion that began to fade as well, leaving Nikos with depleted energy and such a level of exhaustion that in itself was life-threatening. The man sank into extremely deep sleep, because Erna's potion to prevent coma had been absorbed in an extremely slow rate, exactly due to the extreme fatigue.

"What on _earth_ were you thinking, giving him something _illegal_?" shrieked Poppy at Frideswide as soon as Nikos was stable. "That potion might be what ends up killing him!"

"It could also have been what saved his life," Erna said calmly. "You can't know what it was he dealt with. We both know he didn't shoot that curse at himself, and it is nothing you or I ever saw. No Death Eater ever used something so potent and so insidious."

Poppy was about to answer back, but then McGonagall, who had followed them to the infirmary with Rasmus and Harry, and watched them work on the man interrupted her by saying:

"I have here someone who probably does know. Isn't that right, Mr. Snape?"

Rasmus looked down at his still bruished and marked hands.

"Godfather used Augury to find out Dark Wizards following the cult of Isis," he said quietly. "And when he says 'to find out', he also means 'to stop'. So … so I guess that he found them, and…"

"…and nearly killed himself," groused Pomfrey.

"Poppy," Erna muttered, watching Rasmus flinch. "Mr. Snape, there's no use in hiding from you that indeed your godfather's condition is very serious; but I am optimistic that he will survive this, if we give him enough time to do it. I have seen worse in St. Mungo's, and they are still kicking now." Frideswide smiled encouragingly as Rasmus looked up at her, somewhat doubtfully.

"And in any case, Mr. Snape, please follow me," McGonagall said. "We definitely need to talk. You too, Mr. Potter."

And with those words, the Headmistress steered the two students from the room, leaving the two mediwitches alone with Nikos and Hodd. Poppy waited until certain the boy would be out of earshot to ask Frideswide:

"You don't really feel optimistic, do you?"

Frideswide turned and looked at the grayish-pale face of the man lying in the bed.

"If I still work to cure someone, I am still the optimist," she said, but her voice was heavy.

***

In the Headmistress' office, Rasmus sat down nervously next to Harry, who was next to Ron and Hermione- waiting for them quietly as Minerva had instructed. Minerva glanced at the walls as she went to take her seat. Both Albus and Severus were there, but they were both silent, watching. Rasmus seemed to be avoiding his father's glances.

"Now, Mr. Snape. Don't you feel it's time you told me _fully_ what is going on, before more people get hurt?"

"Godfather is a strong wizard," Rasmus murmured. "He shouldn't have been hurt so easily."

"He bit off more than he could chew, obviously," Severus snorted.

"You speak for your own self!" Rasmus erupted, shaking his fist at his father's painting. "Nikos never walked in a battle to die, like _you_!"

"Nobody worth their salt walk into a battle anything less but ready to die, boy," Severus bit back, but his voice was far gentler in its anger than Minerva ever heard it. "Never forget that."

"Severus, you are not helping me," Minerva muttered. She turned to Rasmus, who had covered his eyes, but before she could speak, the teen breathed in and straightened up.

"That was out of line," he said in a harshly restrained voice. "I apologise. I will tell you anything you want."

"That's going to be interesting," Ron whispered to Hermione, who elbowed him, loathe to agree with her boyfriend.

Minerva nodded, and tapped her fingers on her desk. Hot cups of tea appeared before the young wizards opposite her, and one with a shot of brandy for her.

"Drink, all of you," she ordered rather than invited. "It will help. Mr. Snape, you may begin by telling me about Isis and her cult."

Rasmus nodded and sipped from the cup, then he shot a glare at his father's portrait.

"I'm going to tell you about it, Headmistress," he said, retaining angry eye contact with Severus. "And _everything_ there is to know, if you wish it."

Severus nearly left the frame, but stalled in the last moment, as Rasmus began to narrate.

"The cult of Isis is several millennia old," the young man said. "The Mediterranean has its own wizarding history, Headmistress, and somehow it was contained there for an extremely longtime, while whatever was going on in northern Europe and Britain or even Asia was thought of as irrelevant. Anyway, the cult of Isis was originally part of the religion of Ancient Egypt. Isis and Osiris were its founders- they are wizards; what we call Prime Wizards."

"Mr. Snape, Prime Wizards died out," McGonagall said with a worried frown.

"Two survived, apparently," drawled Severus from his frame, where he sat with his arms crossed.

"Excuse me, but aren't Prime Wizards those who can do magic without need of a wand at all?" Hermione asked.

"Precisely, Miss Granger," McGonagall nodded impatiently, not interested in teaching at the moment. "They are supposed to be the ones from which modern wizards are descended."

Rasmus sighed, passing his hand through his hair, then wrapping his fingers around the cup again. Though the heat was scorching, it couldn't make his hands warm at all.

"Yes; so, these two, they didn't want to ever die. So they devoted all their time to finding ways to keep themselves alive, even though they are mortal like everyone else. That's where all the mythology around them came from. They invented Anchors. Those kept them going for a few Dynasties until Seth collaborated with Herpo, who was unfortunately Greek, and tried to destroy their Anchors to create the first Horcrux. They failed, and Isis made a deal with Herpo, who killed Seth and made his Horcrux- and he was part of her cult, too, and brought it over to Greece."

Minerva frowned, feeling growingly uneasy.

"But all this is ancient, isn't it?"

"That's the origin," Rasmus nodded, "but the cult survived to modernity- like your Death Eaters, but with much more history and experience, and two Dark Lords. Isis and Osiris had no problem using Dark or White magic interchangeably to suit their purposes."

"You skipped the important bit, Rasmus," sneered Snape from his portrait. "After all, you _did_ say you'd tell them _everything_."

"Fine," Rasmus glared at his father. He then turned to Minerva. He consistently avoided looking at Harry and the others. "Isis and Osiris wanted to rule Nature. To do that, they needed five Keys, four that were artifacts that could tap upon the four Natural elements, and one that bound them all and made whoever had them all into the master of all Nature: the Omphalos."

Hermione gasped again, making Ron jump and Harry arch an eyebrow.

"You mean Delphi's Omphalos? The one in the fissure under Pythia?"

"Yeah," Rasmus said weakly. "That's the one. Because they wanted to be such masters, many other Prime Wizards opposed them, such as Horus, and Bastet, and Zeus and Athena, and Apollo, who was the one who had power over the Omphalos because he defeated the great snake that originally had it, Python."

"Let me get this straight," Harry said, forgetting that McGonagall was the one conducting the discussion, "are you saying that all the ancient gods were Prime Wizards?"

"Eh, well, most of them, yeah," Rasmus nodded. "And they sort of sided with Isis or against her. Isis is one of the most powerful ones."

"So, Mr. Snape, this cult is what you and your godfather came after here," McGonagall said. "Why are they even here?"

"My godfather would know how to answer that best, Headmistress," Rasmus said uncomfortably. "Isis got killed before I was born, but he was certain her cult was still active, and they were here to retrieve one or more of the Keys."

"And why would any of them be here, since all of this concerned the Mediterranean region only?" McGonagall frowned.

"Because Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor hid one of them from Isis before they came here," Rasmus Snape said, and quickly sipped at his tea.

***

_And that's that! We're not done, but this is a fairly big chunk that explains some of the happenings and premises in this story. I hope it was not quite an unpleasant infodump though. XD _

_If ANYTHING sounds confusing, please feel free to ask me. I don't have the time to read this over and I may not have clarified something. Tomorrow there will be both action and more background info (we still haven't gotten to Aello and Severus) as well as how Voldemort ties into the cult. I hope I haven't swamped y'all… but if I have tell me, and it shall be fixed. _

_**Zoe Bright:**__ Eleni was 'Eleni Gerakas', the Head of Athens School. Yes, we'll be seeing her. As for the British Museum, well, virtually all big museums hold artifacts from civilizations like the Greek, Egyptian or Chinese one, legitimately or illegitimately acquired. Greek stuff and Egyptian ones that I know more about have mostly been looted to Britain during the occupation of Greece by the Turks for 400 years, from 1452 to 1821. The Turkish sultan giften many antiquities to British (and French and others) officials to garner their support, and these furnished private collections and/or museums. You are not far from hitting the hammer on the nail ;) [and I'm a natural teaser…] _

_**Sindie:**__ Yay! Thoughts on this one?? _

_**Very Small Prophet**__: I admit that it was not a correct question to ask. Evil is an absolute value, like good or night or day or pregnancy (you can't be a little pregnant…) and so either a character is evil (with everything that means) or they aren't. Maybe the better question would be how dramatic the manifestations would be… and maybe not even that, either. _


	23. Middle Histories

_Hey hey hey!! _

_I am so happy you liked what you read! Let's move on now and see what else there is to find out… well, for now. You don't think I'll reveal all the cards now, do you? _

_So, onwards! Chapter 23. _

_*** _

Hoyt Cade sashayed into the pub not too far away from the offices of the Daily Prophet, basking in the spotlight that Rita's death had afforded him. His performance at her funeral was well, to _die_ for- Hoyt chuckled at his own put- and the fact that he had access to Rita's office, notes and very private Dirt Stash, where she kept all the interesting little details about everyone she had ever met made him a pet or someone to be aware of, just like Rita had been.

"One firewhiskey, straight up, my man," Hoyt grinned suavely at the barkeep, glancing around at all the witches shooting glances at him. He had been considerably more noticed by the fair sex, too. Much more than he had been when he was the _access_ to Rita Skeeter, not _the_ Rita Skeeter, the reporter that could make or break anyone chasing limelight or spotlight, or any kind of light, really. So he didn't except someone to grab him from his beautiful dark red ponytail and force him to apparate out of the pub, just as he had picked up his glass.

By the time he had time to gasp, he was in a small dark room, with hellish wind howling outside, and someone else that was still in the shadows. Hoyt dropped his drink, and the smash of the glass lingered in the air. Was this Rita's murderer? Was he, too, going tobe murdered now? Hoyt tried to disapparate, but found he couldn't- anti-apparition spells had been put in place while he was still started.

"Please," Hoyt rushed to beg. "Don't hurt me! I don't know anything Rita did! I don't have access to her files! She has warded them all! I don't know anything worth killing for! Please!"

The man opposite lit up a cigarette.

"Shame," grinned Guiren Bai as he stared with coldness at the shaking man opposite me. "Because access to what Skeeter knew and her files is all that can possibly make you worthy to me."

"Guiren Bai?" Hoyt sounded almost disappointed to see who his kidnapper was.

"Disappointed?" Bai picked up on his tone immediately. "You shouldn't be. The last Death Eater that was disappointed, died screaming for his mother."

The disassociated tone of factual evidence made uncertainty creep back into Hoyt. Wasn't Guiren Bai discharged for brutality and unauthorized murder?

"But I'm not a Death Eater. You only target those, don't you?" he challenged worriedly.

"Skeeter was killed by someone very likely to be. If you obstruct my research, you'll be their accomplice, thus one of them in my book. So, Hoyt- what will it be? Are you still unable to access Skeeter's files, or have you just thought up of a way to give me what I want?" Bai grinned like a crocodile before certain dinner, waving his wand idly at the reporter.

"An… an idea just came to me," Hoyt stammered breathlessly. Guiren Bai nodded.

"Genius," he sneered sarcastically.

***

Minerva dipped her finger into the tea to spell more brandy into it before she sipped it, not even noticing the drink was still hot.

"Slytherin and Gryffindor, you say?" she murmured. Rasmus nodded.

"Yes. I don't know much about the beginning except that Salazar Slytherin did roam the Mediterranean before settling in Britain to found Hogwarts with his friends. That he learnt his great skills at Legilimency from another, still surviving Prime Wizard. Some say it was the blind Tiresias, others that it was one of the Sibyls of medieval times; anyway, it's not important. What's important is that he took Gryffindor to a tour of Italy of the time, and that's when they stumbled upon Isis cultists."

"All this is so mental!" Ron couldn't help exclaiming. "How do you know all this?"

"Yes, Mr. Snape, how do you know this story that, I must admit, not even I knew about our Founders? I had heard the two had some adventures together, but nothing specific," McGonagall said.

Rasmus sighed and his shoulders seemed to become more burdened.

"My mother told me. She… she needed to explain to me… so many things I couldn't understand," the young Slytherin's voice became heavy with old chagrin. He looked up.

"I guess you know of Aello Galanou, right?"

"For sure," McGonagall nodded. "A great innovator in many magical areas."

"That was just the byproduct of her real struggle," Rasmus swallowed. "I guess in a way, so was I."

"You were _not_ a byproduct!" thundered Severus from his portrait. "How dare you say such a thing?"

"Because it's true!" Rasmus snapped back. "It was true, at least, for how I came to be, wasn't it? Not even _she_ denied it, so don't you go sugaring things up for me now!"

Hermione's eyes watered as she bit her lip and looked anxiously at the last Headmaster's portrait, and even Ron didn't try to find comments to make.

Severus averted his gaze for a moment, then looked with displeasure at the rest of the students in the room.

"This is a private discussion, son," he said.

"Then don't try to have it now," Rasmus' voice was steely and cutting to the bone, just like his father's so often had been when alive. Minerva shuddered and tried to divert the discussion from that sort of thin ice- though she burned to learn just what both father and son were alluding to.

"Please, Mr. Snape," she said gently. "Tell me what your mother was truly doing. Was she working against the Isis cultists?"

Rasmus sipped from his cup again and found it empty of tea, but it promptly refilled itself.

"Well… the cult of Isis went unmatched for several millennia. In fact in the beginning, the people considered the cultists a virtuous group- until their forays into Dark and powerful magic turned Egypt from a fertile valley with rolling green expanses into the desert we know," Rasmus said wryly.

"I know that book had more than a grain of truth in it!" Hermione piped up in triumph to a question that obviously had bothered her for ages, then she sipped her own tea as everyone turned, half-glaring at her for a moment.

"Yeah… well anyway, it took several centuries for any sort of opposition to them to form even after that, and Isis made it a point to hunt and kill any wizard or witch with the potential of undermining them. Until Pythagoras. You know- the math guy Pythagoras."

"The Tetractys- he designed it, didn't he?"

Rasmus nodded to Hermione's question.

"Yes, it is actually a formula of Augury meant to ensure, protect and maintain Harmony in Nature- in short, to thwart Isis in her quest of getting to manipulate Nature as its master. Pythagoras himself had Anchors, and he lived several lifetimes ensuring that the Pythagoreans balanced out Isis' cultists, and the world could continue. He definitely met with Salazar in his final lifetime."

"Salazar didn't kill him, did he?" Harry couldn't help asking, and it was obvious it was a question Ron and Hermione wanted to voice as well. Rasmus looked at them oddly as he shook his head.

"No. Pythagoras initiated Salazar and Godric into the Pythagorean cult- the one that opposes Isis. They fought with us against her cultists and her and Osiris, and Salazar tricked Osiris into handing him one of the Keys, which he hid. It isn't certain, but it could be that Godric got another one, because we only have two. The Omphalos and Rea's Lava, which is the Key of Fire."

"And who has the last one?" Harry asked, but it was obvious he had guessed at the answer.

"They do- those of Isis," Rasmus answered. "We don't even know which one they have."

Rasmus seemed exhausted as he paused again, and it pained Minerva that she couldn't release the young man to rest, that this couldn't yet end. How could Galanos hide all this from her? How could the – _wait a minute!_

Minerva turned to Snape's portrait.

"Do you know all this? Everything that your son is narrating?" she asked in the demanding voice that signaled to the portrait he could not refuse her. Severus glared at her, but was forced to choke out:

"Most of it, yes."

"Rasmus, are you a Pythagorean?" Harry asked softly, distracting the Headmistress just as she was about to speak again.

Rasmus grinned a little, but his grey eyes shone with ferocity and power.

"Everyone in my family is. _Everyone_."

"Severus…?" Minerva asked with affront.

"You already have your answer," was all Snape said.

"Oh, come on, Minerva. Why, who could ever refuse an offer to study within the Pythagorean fold?" Dumbledore's portrait piped from the opposite wall.

"You knew about that, too!?" Minerva felt anger build unreasonably.

"Severus learnt a lot in that sabbatical- I couldn't help but infer the truth, and though he never told me, he never refused it, either. And I was doubly glad, doubly assured of his allegiance ever since."

"My pledge to you, my despair for what I did to Lily, my absolute _love_ for her that drove me was not enough, was it?" the sarcasm from Snape's portrait was so painful Minerva felt thankful for the bubble that popped and chimed, Poppy's charm to remind Snape's son to take his potion.

"We have left many things unsaid yet, but that is quite enough for now," she said with authority. "Mr. Snape, we have all nearly forgotten you were bedridden only a few short hours ago. Go and take your potion, and then I believe nourishment is in order. Mr. Potter, Weasley; Miss Granger, you too. You will be just in time for tea, since we all missed lunch with all of today's happenings."

Harry nodded and got up, and Rasmus nearly too fast in his effort not to appear weak. He couldn't be weak, especially not now that his godfather was so vulnerable, hovering between life and death after everything he had already been through. He frowned to himself. Nikos was an excellent dueller, so…

He turned around to face McGonagall again, and said quietly.

"Headmistress, if anyone managed to beat my godfather, he or she must be very strong… and they'd know we're here… and they might feel they need…"

"Do not worry, Mr. Snape," Minerva nodded firmly. "You go on to get some food in your body; the rest I will see to."

The boy nodded, glancing once at Snape's portrait, then about turned and left, following the steps of the Golden Trio. As soon as the door was shut, Minerva turned to Snape.

"You will have some consoling to do very soon," she said, shaking her finger at Severus.

"Which would _not_ have been necessary if you hadn't scratched my son's old wounds," Severus bit back.

"That is precisely why I sent all of them out," Minerva nodded. "I am done tolerating your whims; in deference to the sensitivity that your son displays you will be the one to tell me your story."

"My story? Whatever do you mean? Being a Pythagorean is not a story- it's just a notch over being granted membership in Wizarding world's geek club!" Snape said in exasperation, but Minerva could see he was simply hedging.

"Well, _I _wasn't invited in, and everyone knows I qualify for that requirement," Albus said, with a bit of a pout.

"You know what I mean, Severus," Minerva ignored Dumbledore. "You will tell me what Aello was doing, what her brother _is_ currently doing, and how come you and Aello had that boy, who seems to be hauling around far too much responsibility, not unlike Harry Potter used to."

"Don't compare Potter to my son!" Severus growled, but there was no loathing in the eyes of his very life-like portrait. There was fear. "He will not ever stand in the way of Avada Kedavra!"

Minerva sighed and sat back down in her chair.

"Tell me, Severus," she said quietly, and she knew the portrait would.

"It began with a letter- like it has now," Severus Snape's portrait began.

***

_And that's that! Still couldn't manage everything in this chapter, but tomorrow's will definitely have Snape's and Aello's story, told by the next-best thing to living, breathing Severus, too! How do you like that, eh? _

_Oh, the book Hermione is referring to is __Fingerprints of the Gods__ by G. Hancock. ;)_

_I'm a little fearful that maybe I am still unloading a ton on you, but don't worry. Everything will come to play smoothly in action, and then you'll just recognize everything said here. I am rather smug, and need to say that most of what Rasmus says is a (very generously liberal) take on true fact about both the Egyptian religion (it survived as a dominant one up to roman times, and the burial custom of mummification until well after the advent of Christianity. If you feel like it, google "portraits of Fayum" to see some of the latest beautiful art specimens of people practicing versions / sects of this religion) and the Greek ones (there were several takes on religion in pre-Christian Greece), as the Pythagoreans also had a religious belief system to go with their scientific one. I just put the 'magic of Potter' spin on it for this story. So the Tetractys actually exists as a mathematical model, and everything else as well. Oh, 'Rea's lava' doesn't exist. That's totally me. :p Rea is one of the Earth goddesses of the Greek primary pantheon. [mother of Zeus, wife of Cronos and a daughter of Titans, if anyone's interested]_

_Also: Greek youth tend to join the ranks of fighting adults (when necessary) as early as they can, so Rasmus is a member of the Pythagoreans legitimately and fully, though he is only 15. For example, during the Greek Occupation in the dreadful years of 1942-45, children as young as 5 or 8 years old took on Nazis, jumping upon distribution vans to steal bread (the Nazis had imposed famine, especially in Athens) without fear of being shot on sight, and often they were. They also were key participants in all kinds of sabotages, exactly because they were too young to be suspected. _

_There, more cultural snippets for you! I hope I didn't tire you. If you need me to clarify ANYTHING, please say so. And if you have any thoughts, comments, anything, I really do want to hear it. I am writing this story mainly because I want to share fun. :) _

_**Sindie:**__ Thank you! Maybe because I'm an author myself that's seen publication, I like to be original without twisting an established setting out of its own rules. Rowling has hinted at magic hubs being around the world, so I basically grab onto that to see what there might be out there ;) I am SO HAPPY you like it. And I won't even break the rule to somehow make ALL the trouble be about Harry Potter, too. Just not ONLY Harry Potter. Hee hee hee! Thoughts on this little bit? I really look forward to your reviews. :) _

_And that said, see y'all tomorrow! (and all the more for you who thought I wouldn't update this weekend!) _


	24. Modern Histories

_Hello everyone! _

_This is the third part of backstory that concludes the sum of what we will know… until action reveals more. I guess this is the most interesting of the three, eh? _

_So, Onwards! Chapter 24. _

_*** _

Rasmus walked away from the Golden Trio, and though Harry moved to join the young Slytherin, Hermione held him back.

"Give him his space for a while, Harry," she murmured, watching the tired gait that was not that lofty at the moment. "Don't you think everything he said cost him? I can't begin to imagine how much he is afraid for his godfather to just reveal all this information without hedging."

Ron frowned.

"Why would he even want that, anyway? It's not like he's got Snape's excuse- unless _being_ a Snape is an excuse-"

"Oh, stop it," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Didn't you hear what he said he _is_? Or do you think Pythagoreans go around announcing who they are to everyone?"

"No, I guess he wouldn't do that," Harry said softly just as Ron was about to answer. "Do you think we are heading for another battle?"

"Why?" Ron asked, but it was a token question. He knew why, and so did his friends.

Hermione sighed, biting her lip.

"Well, we do know now that whoever killed Rita Skeeter was of the Isis cult. No way that scarab sign means anything else. And we know that Rasmus' godfather is injured because he confronted some such wizards; probably Skeeter's killers themselves."

"And he did tell McGonagall that whoever did all that might want to come after them here," Ron nodded, hating to admit it. "Bloody hell."

"They may also want to come after me," Harry said calmly, making both Hermione and Ron start.

"You? Why you?" Ron blurted out. "You're done with that! Isis isn't You-Know-Who!"

Harry sighed as they entered the main hall to sit down to tea, watching warily as a first year approached, quill and parchment in hand.

"I never sign autographs," he murmured before the starry eyed girl managed to speak, and walked past her. Then he turned to his friends again.

"Because of that dream. It's stopped now, and it stopped just as his godfather got hurt, so it's a safe bet that it stopped because Rasmus' godfather stopped it. Probably by knocking out the wizard, or some such thing. And if I have a connection or anything causing me that, I won't ever again dismiss it as chance or coincidental."

Hermione eyed Harry cautiously.

"And what are you going to do?" she asked.

"For one thing, I'm going to have Professor Bai alert and ready- he may be a lot of things, but tolerant of dark magic is not one of them."

Ron snorted. "He could have fooled me."

"He fools many people," Harry said, happy to see coffee in his cup instead of warm milk or tea. "But I know him."

***

Snape's portrait was the only thing heard in Minerva's office as Severus narrated one of the secrets he had taken to his grave. Minerva's heart constricted a little with half-formed thoughts of what other burdens the man had shouldered to see through a commitment and debt that had not been only his to shoulder.

Severus was quiet, glancing away from Minerva and any other portrait as he spoke.

"It was a professional letter, an offer by the same Nikos Galanos you met now. He addressed me as a healer at the time of course, deep in cutting-edge research who needed a competent and daring potions expert to help him with some of the challenges that had arisen. It caught my interest immediately- at the time, everything was quiet here, and teaching was not my idea of an interesting occupation. So you can understand that even if Galanos wanted me to invent a manure detergent, I would have taken this excuse to leave for a little while. Thankfully, Dumbledore gave me the sabbatical."

"It wasn't every day that we got formal requests from Athens' School- and I knew you'd come back greatly benefited," Dumbledore felt the need to explain.

Severus didn't acknowledge him, and just continued.

"When I arrived there, Galanos introduced me to his research- it was incredible, though I would appreciate it if you kept this evaluation of mine to yourself, Minerva."

"Naturally," Minerva paid attention not to smirk.

"Galanos was researching how to cure Craigh's disease. He had already managed to stall its advance in patients of the first and second stage, just with treatment of enhanced potions. He enhanced them with augury, having them harvested at a particular given time, or brewed in a specific way, following closely the charts to make them much more potent than they would usually be. It was truly an exciting time for me, as I had not ever seen anyone use Arithmancy for Potions that way before. It didn't occur to me to ask why he was so interested in Craigh's disease at all.

"So in the first few months, we worked together and created concoctions that were more or less volatile- because Galanos wanted to make a new serum that would not just stall Craigh's, but actually cure it, and he felt that he could do it if he had a Potions Master who could tell him what values to transcribe into his equations, and what to look out for."

"I can just imagine," Minerva smiled, knowing just from the tone of restraint to keep to the bare details and not launch into an extensive lecture of exactly what was done, how much sheer fun Severus had had. It made the Headmistress happy- she remembered that she recalled the period of Snape's sabbatical as the most peaceful time between the two wars; but she now realized it had continued to be that way up until Harry Potter's sorting.

She sighed and focused again to the man's portrait. Severus sighed too, in his portrait, pausing for a moment.

"I met Aello about three months into my working with Galanos. She had been away, you see, and Galanos had so obsessed over following her trails in Augury that I was convinced she was some sort of invalid or foolhardy nutjob. So when I did actually meet her, she took me quite by surprise.

"She was a beautiful woman- she didn't strike me like Lily always had, but maybe if my heart wasn't… already bonded, she would have." Severus' voice had trailed for a moment, and Minerva decided then that portraits couldn't possibly be unconnected to the souls of the people they displayed.

Severus smiled that thin quasi-smile that was so _him_, and continued.

"She was every bit the optimist, and extremely active. She introduced herself to me as a field researcher just back from Egypt. It was not quite a lie, and she had brought with her obscure ingredients I had believed extinct for centuries. Aello was absolutely enamoured with Potions, potent magic, dangerous artifacts… she was someone I could talk with. One could say… that very quickly we became the friends that I _thought_ I had been with Lily, but was not. Most likely because love had nothing to do with it."

"Hm," Minerva felt doubtful, and though she didn't want to interrupt the portrait lest she need to exert her authority to make him talk again, she did tut. Snape caught the tone and turned to look at her for the first time since he began his narration.

"Do you know the Greek have two words for 'love'? _Eros_ and _Agape_… Aello explained that to me, before… I think that what I felt- probably still feel wherever I am- for Lily is that Greek _eros_: hopeless, bonded devotion and obsession that can border on madness, but is still pure because all you wish for is for that person to be happy and just love you back." The portrait sighed. "But for Aello I felt that Greek _agape_: the feeling that the other person is dear to you, and you'd do anything for them, but you are still free and whole despite of your affections."

"That's a beautiful thing to say," Minerva gripped her tartan handkerchief to her mouth once, then took up her spiked tea to drink. Severus nodded, too.

"Of course it's beautiful. It's Aello's; her words, her explanation. She was an expert in explaining truths that to the rest of us remain mysteries and appear vices. She told me in one brief note that this is how she had explained it to our son, with an underlined order not to mess that up."

Severus was chuckling. Minerva joined, but some part of her inside was weeping for some unfathomable reason.

"So what did Aello really do?"

"I found that out rather late- I found out first that _she_ was the patient Galanos was seeking to cure first. Aello had Craigh's disease. You know what it is, right?"

"A progressive degeneration of a wizard's magic energy, that ends in death," McGonagall nodded. "Oh dear; but wasn't she young? Craigh's is supposed to inflict the extremely old or abusers of magic."

"Aello was young. Do you know she and her brother only have one year difference between them? But she was also a Pythagorean, and of the Galanos clan. Her real actions involved hunting down Isis cultists, in her family's quest to find all of the Keys Rasmus spoke of."

"Why?"

"Because if one has all of the Keys in one's possession, apart from becoming master of Nature, one can destroy them once and for all, thus making it impossible for anyone to be able to tap Nature like Isis and Osiris want."

Minerva nodded, understanding the quest.

"So Nikos is now doing it in her stead?"

"Yes. And if he fails, Rasmus will be next. He is a Galanos too, even if he bears my surname. Blood bonding doesn't care for surnames." The fear began creeping in the portrait's lifelike eyes again. "And that is why you _must_ ensure Galanos is the one who does the job, so my son can stay out of it."

"Severus, will you tell us how you and Aello decided to have that remarkable boy? I don't think it was an accident," Dumbledore asked cheerfully, and Snape scowled, as if he had been trying to dodge that part of the story, only to be foiled. Minerva felt a tug that she speak and say it's not necessary, but she was too much of a closet gossip not to burn to know. So she stayed silent and glanced at Snape's portrait with the same question.

"If you don't know how _that_ is done, then I don't believe I am suitable to illuminate you on the subject," Severus groused at them both, but he knew he'd have to answer.

"Just the basics, not the details, Severus," Minerva said softly.

"Like I said, Aello was dying. She didn't look it, and her brother's Healing was doing a great job of sustaining her and giving her strength to fight on, but she was definitely deteriorating. Actually what was worrying her was not that her life was shortened, but that her magic power might decline as well, and render her incompetent in finding new ways to counter and fight. Back from Egypt- she eventually, when we grew to trust each other, told me she had been there clearing out an Isis cult cache and those guarding it- she had brought several things to work with to develop the serum Nikos was aiming for.

"Craigh's is a constant siphoning away of magic, so the cure would be to stopper that, and replenish what was lost. It took us about five months of research, but we did get to develop a possible cure. It was extremely similar to a love potion. Love potions increase endorphin and dopamine secretion among other things, which is where magic stems from biologically, when we tap on it. So what we created was a serum that was 50% a healing draught, and 50% a love potion, just without any compelling agent in it."

Severus paused for a moment, then bit his lip.

"When Aello took it, it didn't work. It did all the right things, but it didn't _reach_ her magic. It didn't connect to her. It took about another month of Augury by Galanos to determine that the potion had to be made by someone who loved her enough to be her blood- while _not_ a blood relative."

Minerva began to understand where this was going, and how Rasmus' comments about being a byproduct tied in. It was a disturbing concept, wasn't it?

But Severus was not paying attention to her.

"You must understand, that by that time, short that it was, Aello had become a… a soulmate. She could look upon me, after having gazed upon _such evil_, after having fought with worse than Death Eaters, after seeing my Dark Mark-"

"You showed her your Dark Mark?" gasped Minerva.

"She sensed it at that first moment she met me, and held me at wand point. It was one of the most exciting duels I have had, and it took more than just Nikos to convince her I was not actually Dark."

"Who won?" asked Fineas, speaking suddenly from higher up in the wall and startling everyone.

"I did," Snape said. "But only because I got lucky. The second time we dueled, was very humbling for me. And the third time, for her. Like I said, she was …_family_. And she could look upon me, and tell me I was not just 'not Dark'… but that I was _light_. And that is something I never got from anyone- not even Lily. Not even _you_."

Minerva flinched, although she knew Severus was addressing Dumbledore. That was true for everyone. There was good reason why it was true, but… _don't dwell on it now._

"I see," she said quietly instead. "So how did the potion work?"

"We knew blood relatives couldn't help her, and though the Galanos family is respected in Greece, not many dared approach a woman such as Aello with anything but fear or awe or aversion. Respect is not equal to love," Snape snorted. "Some men just cannot handle women as they can really be."

"I told her that I could not forget about Lily, but that I would give my blood for her in a heartbeat, just as I would for Lily if I could. And Aello then asked me that if I had a heart big enough to love so fiercely twice, and the courage to acknowledge it, if I would also love a child. Because that's what the potion meant- it would work only if the one making the potion and the one taking it, shared a blood bond of love between them. I said yes."

"Did it work?" Minerva asked.

"At first we thought it hadn't, although Aello had conceived; we decided to keep the baby anyway. Upon Rasmus' birth though, Aello's symptoms were gone, and she was cured. Rasmus saved her life- and in a sense he saved mine, too. But that is something far too personal for a Headmistress to need to know, don't you think?"

Minerva nodded, her mind reeling at all of this that she had never ever suspected about Severus Snape. There were tons more questions she wanted to ask, but as Headmistress, only one was relevant.

"As a Pythagorean, Severus, what did you do? Well, except what you have already told me."

"I only did one significant thing," Severus said. "I made sure Voldemort never found out anything about Isis, the Keys, or anything else he might want to use. Had I known about the Horcruxes in time, I would have other remedies for them and _some people_ would not have had to die."

***

_and that's that! I hope it wasn't too sappy for you. Severus sounds very forthcoming and maybe too emotional, but it's his portrait speaking, he doesn't have too much capacity to say no, and maybe the portrait Snape is rehearsing what he'll tell Rasmus. Mwe hehee!_

_Anyway, I realized upon writing this chapter, that this whole thing Snape is narrating, his sabbatical to Athens (it lasted for two years almost) is enough material for another story to write. Just to describe how Severus and Aello warmed to each other… makes my fingers tingle! But the point is it might appear sketchy even with the response of the portrait to Minerva's questioning, and I can't see even the portrait wanting to get into more detail than he already did. _

_Ah, I'm rambling. What do you think of it all?Again if anything sounds odd or confusing, tell me and I'll fix it. I don't have time to read it over again, so… you know the drill. :) _

_**Sindie**__: Really? Thank you! I am counting on you and everyone who is willing to review for feedback. _

_**Duj**__: Yay for Nikos, then! I responded to the rest in PM, so I will just say I agree on realism for villainy. _

_**RebeccaRoy:**__ thank you! It is really fun to piece it together, like a puzzle made of fantasy and fact, to make a whole! _

_Till tomorrow! _


	25. Calm

_Hello again everyone! _

_Ok, so I know some things that must happen in this story will take place… but now I am beginning to fidget with them, as I am nearing them more and more. Help? Not sure HOW you can help but… argh!! _

_But Onwards nonetheless! Chapter 25_

_*** _

Rasmus walked into the infirmary, his eyes burning. He hated crying, absolutely _loathed_ himself when the tears came, but he couldn't ever help it when it happened. When younger, growing up with his peers in Athens, it had been the cause for many brawls until he managed to beat it into the other boys not to tease him about sniffling when … when it was difficult. Tearful did not by any means mean soft- and that Rasmus had proven well enough.

"Shyte," he muttered in Greek as he dabbed at his eyes with his robe's sleeve- the tears just rolled when he saw Nikos still deep into unconsciousness, lying like that on the bed. He approached at Nikos' bedside. He looked peaceful enough, but somber. Rasmus sighed as he touched the man's shoulder tentatively with two fingers, and whispered besides himself as he blinked the blur out of his eyes.

"I already did this for mother _and_ father, godfather. Is it already your turn? Why must it always end like this?" _Or rather, when will it really end? _Rasmus didn't want to think just who it was who managed to render a wizard like his uncle in this state. Nobody of that caliber was supposed to have been left alive after mother. Nobody.

"Mr. Snape," Professor Frideswide's voice made him flinch. Rasmus cringed, trying to dab at his face before turning around to face her, wishing it had been Pomfrey and not her in the infirmary. It was somehow less embarrassing for just the nurse to see him cry, rather than a teacher. Fortunately, the tears seemed to be abating.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, then cleared his throat. "I am here for my potion."

Erna handed it to him, and he drank it in one swallow almost. Then he sighed, lingering, not wanting to leave Nikos' side or wanting to face anyone in the main hall.

"Shouldn't you be going to eat? Your friend Mr. Finn was here earlier, and I told him you would be meeting him there."

"I honestly can't eat right now," Rasmus' eyes were fixed on Nikos' prone form. "Not until he wakes up."

"That won't do," Frideswide said. "He might sleep for a while yet."

"Has the Apperception…" Rasmus trailed off, not knowing how to put the question without making the potions professor defensive. But Frideswide simply patted his shoulder.

"He will be okay. But he does need rest. We had bargained at a full night's sleep before … well, today, him and me. Now, we'll just multiply by ten," she giggled with a dangerous glint in her eyes. Rasmus couldn't help a small lopsided grin.

"He'll hate that."

"Then, we'll do it," winked Erna and gestured for Rasmus to go and eat.

***

Professor Bai flooed into his office with a decidedly smug expression in his face, holding what seemed to be a paper cube in his hand. He cleared his desk of all the stacks of paper, discarded quills, empty coffee cups, assorted books and other paraphernalia that consistently cluttered it, and placed the item in the very middle. Upon enlargement it burst into a huge pile of papers, all colour coded, that covered nearly the entire desk surface. Rita Skeeter's dirt stash was now his to look through.

"Sort by date," Bai swished his wand, and a whole stack of bright pink papers nearly hit him in the face. The ex-auror pushed the rest of the papers aside and conjured up an ashtray. He pulled his pack of cigarettes and settled down to study. He would inform McGonagall later, just before going to his first year class with a pop-quiz. Lighting up with his wand, he started reading the paper filed only 24 hours before her murder.

And his eyebrows nearly merged with his hairline.

***

"Snape! Merlin, I thought the castle had swallowed you up," grinned Finn as Rasmus made it to the main hall, sitting down at the Slytherin table to eat. Immediately, tea, milk and scones popped before him, still not as hot as they should normally be- the house elves were overcautious.

Rasmus smirked.

"I noticed our points were down. Was that all you, or is there someone else to blame as well?"

"You wound me, Snape. Mortally wound me," Finn lamented dramatically as he dipped his cookies in his steaming milk. "Most of those points were Hodd, for the courtyard, and then some idiots that don't know how not to get caught by Filch after hours. Firsties- they are paying their dues."

"Mmm," token smiled Rasmus as he picked up the cup. Silence occurred, until Finn broke it again, this time in a less buoyant voice.

"And do you think you could tell your buddy what is going on?"

"Nothing's going on," Rasmus said coolly.

"Right," snorted Finn. "Your uncle is unconscious in our school for nothing."

Rasmus glared at him and Fill raised his hands.

"See? You don't use the death glare over nothing."

Rasmus stared back, widening his eyes on purpose.

"There. No death glare."

Finn winced, ducking from the sight.

"Creepy! Creepy! I'll take the death glare please!"

Rasmus grinned and chuckled picking up the cup and eyeing the scone.

"Maybe you should use that look on Gaunt when she comes flashing around her Prefect badge. She'll _bolt_!" Finn elbowed him.

"I don't need a glare to make Gaunt bolt," Rasmus smiled, glad the subject had been effectively changed.

***

Osiris squinted, walking out into the sunlight after… a _very_ long time, Isis at his side.

"How long has it been, Usat?" he asked. "None of these things look familiar."

"Quite long," Isis nodded. "Those vehicles use the power of petrol and fire to propel themselves- _itja_, not sorcerer invention. The rest you will find are not too changed from the norm."

"As always," Osiris smirked, glancing at his muggle clothes that Isis had provided. "When will we move to Salazar's _hewet_?"

"Castle, not a house," Isis corrected. "After we prepare ourselves. Tomorrow."

Osiris nodded. It annoyed him to have to always be the second in their team, but Isis had control, had had it ever since Seth had nearly killed him, mutilating him so horribly. She had kept him alive, anchored him while she found all his pieces, and put him back together. That was how great Isis was- and he was bound to follow her. He had lived for millennia because of her, more than any other of the time they Ruled.

It just annoyed him, that it was _her_. And not him.

Osiris sighed and smiled at Isis as she led him through extremely noisy streets with vehicles that were far too fast for their own good, and forced himself to think of the Keys. When they got them, he would not need Isis to keep him living and he would make things right- as they should be, between Pharaoh and Queen.

***

Harry knocked on Professor Bai's office a few minutes before official ending of office hours and the day, to make sure he would be alone. The door swung open and Bai grabbed Harry from his front and pulled him in. Harry made a face.

"This place has so much smoke there's no room for air!"

"We are in the brown stinky stuff so deeply I think that prim hauty minister will be smelling her armpits," Guiren said, a cigarette butt hanging off the side of his mouth. "I'm so sorry that Skeeter is dead- I'd have love to book _her_."

Harry's eyes were watering as he gazed around. There were papers floating in the air, and little notes spelled to float next to them, and Guiren was skimming new ones all the time, and waving them into their place in the air feverishly.

"We got a new gang of dark ones in our hands, may be worse than Death Eaters, and there may even be a new dark lord into the mix-"

"It's a cult, and it's not new, it's actually ancient," Harry said, plucking one of the papers to fan the air with, "and we may need to be on the alert- really quiet like."

Guiren simply stared, and Harry braced himself.

"What!"

_Just wait it out,_ Harry thought as the man began shouting and asking questions for which he did not pause to hear the answers, _and he'll be ready for instructions in two minutes._

***

_It's not your time yet. Go back. GO BACK! _

_But it wasn't easy to go back- he felt as if wading through mud, or quicksand, and no matter how much he tried, his energy was stolen, and he made no progress. But Nikos knew- he knew very well that he had no time to be sick, that he could not afford to let his body sort itself out, just like Aello had said it sometimes had to be. He didn't get himself killed, but he now had to get himself to not be a vegetable. Nobody but him knew that Isis was still alive, that she had brought Osiris back again. He could not remain unconscious!_

Poppy frowned as a spell tingled in her ear, warning her to wake, that someone needed her help in the dead of the night. She muttered crankily, expecting it to be the Snape boy, sneaking back in to keep vigil for the greek. Stubborn Snapes. She was certain she had barely managed to threaten him out, although she had acquiesced to let him study next to the man's cot. She thrust her feet into her fuzzy pink slippers and waddled quickly towards the infirmary. But upon the sight, all sleep left her.

Nikos was sprawled face first on the floor, otherwise looking as unconscious as before.

"Mr. Galanos? Nikos?" Poppy cried, but got no response. Quickly, she used her wand to get him back to bed, and checked him over carefully. There was increased heart rate, and his breathing was deeper. The man's brow was also furrowed. Poppy gasped, realizing that the man was somehow trying to come to, to resurface from his slumber. She had never seen it happen before, but she could not deny what her diagnostic spell was telling her.

She also realized that if she just stood there and let him struggle with his own exhausted body, he would end up killing himself before he could succeed in waking. He simply wasn't ready for the exertion. What to do? She would not let him die on her watch, and if that meant keeping him in unconsciousness, then so be it. Poppy nodded to herself. Frideswide had said that it wouldn't be safe to wake him before three days had passed, and the potion she had given him was to sedate Nikos for that long. He was fighting it, obviously; so she would enhance it.

"_Somniferus_," she murmured, and the man's muscles relaxed, his heart rate slowed to a safer beat, and his metabolism stopped requiring energy he had not yet replenished.

"There, Mr. Galanos; you will be safe from your own self," she said in triumph, and went back to bed.

And Nikos was left screaming in the dark void in despair, trapped in his perfectly relaxed and healing body, unable to break through to the surface, unable to wake and warn everyone that Isis was coming, though everyone thought her dead- and she was coming now, to get what she needed for Osiris' body.

_Rasmus!_

***

_And that's that! Ach, I hate transition chapters, but this was quite important. And let me tell you- characters never behave like you want them to. We love 'em and hate 'em for it. __Tomorrow, we got action! Probably not what you imagine, but action nonetheless. ;)_

_Don't you hate it when nurses just thwart your efforts? _

_**Zoe Bright**__: thank you so much! And yeah, Salazar probably taught Snape everything he knew. Somehow, before Snape was born- maybe in the waiting room of 'before birth and after death'. :p I'm also tickled that you say for Rasmus and Harry to watch out (and rightly so) but don't warn Minerva she is up for getting her heart carved out. *ducks* oh, and yeah, Rasmus still has lots of issues over the deaths of both his parents, and quite a bit more about how they handled their lives. _

_**Duj: **__I figured he had to have something more out of his life… and voila! :D As for your logic on Harry and his capacities, yup that makes sense, but I tend to blame JK for that fickleness more than Remus. In my book, heart is key for battles, but you also need strategy and skill, so just heart won't cut it. And my villains tend to go for the kill right away, so I must really be careful with them and the heroes, too. ;) _

_**Mandya1313**__: thanks! Updated!_

_**RebeccaRoy**__: yay! Glad it works, that's what I wanted. Rasmus doesn't share that much, but I think so too, he was quite loved by both parents._

_**Sindie:** thank you! I like that sort of thing too :) There may not be enough time for flashbacks to weave in the plot but we'll see. And aieee! Yes, I meant Phineas. Darn it! x(  
_


	26. Backdoor

**FF is not letting me upload my normal file, and I kind of cheated to get this update to you now and not in ten days... so any formatting problems, please don't hit me. Just reward me for my macgyver attitude. :D Below is my chapter file as it would have been without the 'roundabout' method. **

_Hello everyone! _

_Ugh, seems I managed to overwork myself again- not as bad as Nikos, though, just yet. Heh! Anyway, here's to today's capacity to write again!_

_So, onwards! Chapter 26._

_*** _

After tea, Rasmus sat down to study for the lessons he had missed, much to Finn's shock and malign, effectively closing off to discussion and opportunities for the other Slytherin to pump him for information on exactly what was going on. It wasn't easy, although Rasmus was the type of student who studied qualitatively rather than quantitatively- two hours was enough for the sum of the work, leaving the rest of the time for research, or reading pulp fiction. Or classic fiction.

But not today.

Not only was it difficult to concentrate because of the lingering lightheadedness, it was all the more hard because of Nikos' condition. The nagging feeling that whoever had beaten him in a duel was not going to go away easily, unless Nikos had killed him, kept interfering with his reading, forcing him to go over the same paragraph again and again, without managing to understand what it was saying. _There could have been more than one that attacked him,_ he tried to think, but even that was not soothing. Nikos was notorious about how he could face several sorcerers in a duel and walk off unscathed. It was why he taught Duelling in Athens School's dueling club. So it had to either be an army he found himself in through Augury, or some extremely dangerous folk, that would want seconds.

"I'm going to bed," he muttered to Finn who was puzzling out an essay next to him. "I'll see what you're writing tomorrow at breakfast."

***

The falcon flew swiftly through the crisp, cold Scottish air, leading the way for the robust bull that galloped on the ground under her. The prairies and country roads of the country aided them in crossing it without being overly seen, and as the crow flies. In other times, when the spell was properly bound and anchored, she and the bull would race the wind, and see who was the fastest – and it was not always she that won. Osiris was the strongest of their line, and if Seth had not intervened, Isis would have been forced to bow to him. It was only because she made it easy for Seth to make his move that she could bind Osiris the way _she_ wanted, so that she could use him rather than the other way around. And it worked smoothly- Seth was always so easy to manipulate and entrap- and Isis had become Queen for millennia, one way or the other. This hiccup, this trick with the transfigured hearts was alarming. It had only been done once before, and it had nearly been her undoing. That cursed Pythagoras and his students always harrowed her ever since. She had tricked, killed and corrupted them ever since, but it had cost her.

Osiris had began getting… ideas.

She couldn't have that. If Osiris opposed her, her potential to power would flounder in many ways, considering that it was Osiris who was master of the Key they possessed… in fact, it was only his dependence on her and her necromantic spells that made him the follower and not the challenger. For nearly all time, just the fact that she held his existence in her hands was enough. Even after Pythagoras, it had been enough. But when Osiris awoke again and again, and the Pythagoreans were still there, against them… he began getting ideas.

She would need to beat them out of his head, and well before they had all the Keys in their possession.

She let out a cry and turned, and the bull below her followed.

***

Minerva listened to Bai and Harry carefully, frowning to herself. A sinking feeling had saturated her as acid pooled in the pit of her stomach. She didn't want it to start again. She didn't want to have to face the horror of darkness again, and she definitely didn't want this horror of darkness to invade a school, the very place that should remain pure and unaffected by the terrors of the world and the shame of humanity. _But the schools of magic are castles, and those in it dabble with the very forces that perpetually clash for dominance. _

"We are fairly convinced that those paying Skeeter were preparing for some sort of soul binding spell," Professor Bai said, his fingers twitching with the lack of a cigarette between them. "All the things they ordered her to gather up from here point to that."

"Soul binding," Minerva frowned. "Like in a Horcrux?"

"Could be," Harry said. "But I have a gut feeling that it wasn't a Horcrux being made. I think they were trying this."

The young man opened a book in a marked place and set it before the headmistress. Minerva's eyes widened.

"Where did you find this?"

"Hermione found it- you'll have to ask her," Harry said with a small smile. "She is still researching Anchors as we speak."

"Binding a soul to a body after it has departed- that's not only terribly dark, but it is considered impossible to perform. The sheer power that is needed…"

"Rasmus told us that Isis was killed- but so had Voldemort been, and he came back. And he wasn't even a prime wizard as far as I know. And there is this Anchor thing- what if Isis is back, somehow?"

Minerva bit her lip and glanced to the side, hoping for Severus' input, but the frame was empty. Where had he gone? What was more important than the fact that they would need to fortify Hogwarts again?

***

The falcon landed in the deserted clearing of the Forbidden Forest, and smoothly transformed into the beautiful raven-haired woman that Isis was. The bull next to her huffed and panted for a while, blowing white steam from great, powerful nostrils before transforming back into Osiris.

"This finally looks familiar, Usat," he said with a smile as he glanced around. "We have been here before."

"Indeed," she agreed, wrapping her scarf around her neck tighter. She hated cold countries. "When Salazar and Godric were alive, and you finally realized they were tricksters."

Osiris scowled.

"They tricked us both. Do not try to make it seem otherwise."

"They tricked the one who killed Horus and gained mastery of the Key of Wind. That would be you."

"And you would be the one thinking Godric completely seduced, Usat. We were both fooled, and they paid for it."

"Do you think the Key of Wind is hidden there?" Osiris nodded to the direction of Hogwarts.

"Over the centuries my followers have searched, and found nothing. Most likely not," Isis said as she pulled on her golden finger caps and began the preparations. "Are you ready, Ausar? We need to use it."

Osiris sauntered to his place opposite her, pulling out his odd lapis lazuli wand and pointing it to the ground. In their native tongue, they began to chant.

***

Professor Vector was glad to see Snape's son turn in early, passing past her open office door without noticing she was inside. She sighed to herself as she turned back to her grading, jotting down notes at the margins for the students to use for future reference. She didn't quite know how to approach the teen, who was definitely like Severus on many occasions, but also had another streak that Severus had never displayed. Rasmus made her feel completely redundant as a Head of House. She had no idea how to help him, and he never seemed open to show her how. And his godfather? Septima shivered, something stirring deep in her stomach. When she thought of _him_ the last thing on the list was help- and that made her feel guilty, knowing that as an Arithmancer she should have bothered crafting a few charts herself, just in case, to help this man that had projected this air of self reliance.

Grading forgotten, she gazed out of her office's enchanted window, which always showed the weather outside. She frowned. _Snowing already? _It was not unheard of even this early in autumn, but only this afternoon it was still too hot for snow. She shrugged and resettled in her chair, to resume the paperwork, but then her quill paused before making another mark in red on the student's parchment. _What if I make a little chart about this? It'll only take ten minutes… _

Septima put the essays aside and pulled a new sheet of parchment.

***

The moment Rasmus' head hit the pillow, he sank into sleep. His body seemed to merge with the mattress of his bed and become lead heavy, from the exhaustion he did not register when awake, and worrying over everything else except his own body. The blood replenishers had helped his anaemic state, and the food- though little- helped boost energy. The house elves had had explicit instructions from Pomfrey, like for most students who got treatment well after they thought they had escaped the infirmary and medicinal potions down their throat. There would have been no other way Poppy would ever concede to releasing them early otherwise.

And so Rasmus slept deeply for quite a few hours, even straight through the racket of his dorm mates who returned after dinner to their own beds, thus serving as an excellent pillow for Betty, who curled up on the small of his back right after she stopped pestering Finn for treats.

So it was with great difficulty that he was pulled from his slumber by someone urgently shaking his shoulder, whispering 'Mr. Snape, sir! Wakes, Mr. Snape, sir!"

Rasmus cracked one eye open, too tired to even scowl.

"Mmmwha."

The house elf glanced around frightfully, and began pulling him off the bed by the t-shirt he was wearing.

"Come! You come, sir! Quickly! Dangerous! Quickly!"

"…ater," Rasmus' eyes were drooping again. "_Avrio_."

"Now! Quick! Quick! Father is call you!" The house elf pulled with all her might on Rasmus.

Rasmus' eyes flashed open.

"What did you say?" he said, getting up almost too fast. The elf grinned and hopped at her success, then gestured for him to follow.

"Quick! Quick!"

Slipping his hand under his pillow for his wand, Rasmus obeyed.

And as he exited the dorm, Finn's eyes opened up, and he turned surreptitiously towards him.

***

Rasmus skidded in front of Severus' portrait in the corridor.

"Father! What is it?"

"They are here," Severus said without preamble. "And they have come through entries we don't know about, that there are no wards against. The elf will take you to the one room that can hide you. Go!"

"Who are they?" Rasmus tried to ask before his father's portrait left the frame, completely ignoring the house elf tugging at his slacks. "Dad! You got to tell me who I'm up against!"

It was those words that made Severus stop and turn, pointing at his son menacingly from his frame.

"_You_ are not up against anyone, you hear? This is out of your league, and we don't fight out of our league. Follow the house elf, and leave this to McGonagall!"

"Just tell me _who_, or I'll go find out on my own," Rasmus' eyes flashed dangerously, mirroring his father's exact expression.

"Isis and Osiris," Severus said. "Now honour our deal." The frame was empty in a flash.

For a moment, Rasmus stood there breathless.

"Mr. Snape, come!" the house elf said.

"You go ahead, I'll be right behind you," muttered Rasmus, still staring at his father's empty portrait frame. Isis was still alive. _Osiris_ was back. Everything that had been achieved up to then, every death he had had to mourn, had been in vain. Isis and Osiris were back- while his mother and father, never would be. Then, his face was set in an odd sort of deathly calm, eyes hard as granite and grey as the brewing storm.

"I never made any deal to have to honour it," he muttered, then rushed off before the elf could stop him.

***

Isis touched upon Osiris' shoulder as they walked the dark underground tunnel to Hogwarts.

"It seems the last time it opened, it was by us again, Usat," Osiris murmured, lighting the way with his wand.

"It was," Isis said. "I saw to it that everyone else knowing of this passage, took the secret with them."

"Mmmm, my goddess," Osiris' voice took a more alluring tone. "That is why you are going to rule all those worms with me."

Isis didn't like the way it was said, but it was not the time to slip into an argument. So, just before they were to fall silent, she simply said, her hand snaking down the wizard's arm suggestively:

"If you heed me as you have, yes we will, my love."

Then, the groan of the ancient door opening silenced whatever Osiris had wanted to say, and they emerged in one of the most ancient dungeons of the castle. She glanced around. It was finished now- when she had stormed it last time, it didn't have the snake statues or any of the trappings that she now witnessed. Signs of battles were evident everywhere, as well as discarded huge snake skins to attest to Slytherin's tendency to overcompensate. Isis chuckled to herself.

"Salazar's Chamber," Osiris whispered. "Do you think we have been detected?"

"I wouldn't expect to be immediately. After all, this _is_ a Secret Chamber."

***

_And that's that! I couldn't get to the real action in this chapter, but I will get to it tomorrow! It's all set up for both my and your enjoyment! So stay tuned!_

_I hope it's glaringly obvious which Chamber they have entered through, right? _

**_OlliandtheIvy_**_: Thank you! Welcome aboard, and I hope to hear from you again. And yes, poor Nikos! _

**_Zoe Bright_**_: Whew, I'm happy you liked it! Minerva can indeed handle her own, but still…! And my fidgetings are just cold feet really, for when characters reveal to me what they will do._

**_Duj_**_: darn, that whole quote was (and still is) warped. It was supposed to be haughty, yes, and he was supposed to make some wittier quip that I was in too much of a hurry to notice he hadn't made. Oh, snap! And yeah, Nikos' news just got old._

**_Mandya1313_**_: Thanks! _

**_Sindie_**_: Hope your review doesn't get eaten again. (click back for my reply)_

_And that's that! Review with thoughts and comments, please!_


	27. Affray

_Hello everyone again!_

_I thought long and hard about how to proceed with this… I don't want to make it AU (well, non-canon even for the epilogue) but would you mind terribly if it does so become? _

_Anyway, onwards! Chapter 27. _

_*** _

Lighting the way forward, Isis led the way out of the Chamber of Secrets from the old, ancient passageway that was originally made, not what the castle adopted for it as innovations like plumbing and inward bathrooms were incorporated into its design. Isis loved the way stone and earth worked; despite the evolutions, it never erased the past etched upon it, except upon total annihilation. It was really her element. And when she found her Key…

_First things first,_ she admonished herself. _Gut two wizards, bloodlet a suckling, and get out to assemble what is needed to raze down the rest. _She side glanced at Osiris, who moved stealthily like a shadow next to her, wand in hand.

"Do you feel the pull of the one whose blood you need, Ausar?" she asked, pausing just before they were to emerge in the areas of the main castle.

"I do," Osiris said rather hungrily. "And he is moving."

"Excellent," Isis said. "Go then, Ausar, and take what you need, and I will see to it that I harvest the rest for the canopics."

Osiris nodded, and waved his wand once in a flurry of light-feather movements. The shadows that had been dispersed by Isis' _lumos_ spell seemed to reach over them and swath them like thready shrouds, rendering them nearly invisible.

"Open the passage, Usat," Osiris said. "Use Wadjet's bestowing and speak her tongue."

Isis smiled with superiority, loving it when Osiris intoned words of worship for her that were slightly like charms of their own. She breathed in, raising her right hand palm inwards. With her golden-tipped finger she traced the figure of a knot on the skin under which her pulse was visible, invoking the power of the one who was more powerful than her, and taught her everything she knew.

"Mother Wadjet, let me _speak_ through you."

As she spoke those words, to Osiris' ears Isis' musical cadence changed into the hissing whistle that was the language of the Cobra. And a moment later, the wall before them groaned, and an opening was formed. The two prime wizards stepped into the empty, deserted corridor, no more than shadows upon shadows. The ancient passageway to the Chamber groaned closed. Isis gestured for Osiris, and he ran off quickly, following the scent and pull of living blood coursing through veins which had already fed him and nurtured him before Nikos Galanos had nearly sent him back to latency in his sarcophagus.

Isis' eyes flashed as she murmured another spell, to know where to be pulled to the other two beating, powerful hearts.

"You have some nerve," came a superior voice from the wall opposite her. Isis turned to look, curious that any of the lesser wizards would have been able to see through Osiris' Pall that rendered her invisible. But it was not a wizard, she realized. It was a portrait- one's likeness she knew well.

"Salazar's portrait." Her tone was almost jeering. "I do not converse with dead things."

Salazar smiled, his grey eyes twinkling with hungry menace.

"That does not make my statement incorrect," he said with a smile, as he watched Isis' figure glide past swiftly.

"_Attero Ovis!_"

Isis swore to herself as Osiris shadowy cloak of invisibility dispersed by Headmistress McGonagall's well placed curse. Salazar's portrait had distracted her. She smiled nonetheless, spreading her fingers, the gold upon them shining threateningly.

"Thank you for walking right up to me," she smirked, and intoned: "_Traho Pectus Pectoris!_"

Minerva's eyes widened, but she bellowed:

"_Servo Vita!_" as she ducked for good measure. The spell missed by a hair, bouncing off her brilliant shield- but it was so powerful that this bounce at a tangent was enough to shatter it. It served as a good warning. The dark corridor resonated with the spell light flashes. McGonagall went on into the offensive, using the most powerful spell she trusted to be able to control:

"_Incendia Spiritus!_" she hissed, then threw her wand-hand forward, making the whole air around Isis conflagrate. She turned to glance at her backup. "Now!"

Professor Bai seemed to materialize from some passage behind a portrait- _Salazar's Portrait!_- and hissed at her:

"_Incindere crudus quod sino poena!_" making wand moves that Isis had no chance to see while being busy dousing the powerful fire spell. And so, while she doused with her magic Minerva's most powerful spell in fractions of a second, Guiren Bai's Antahiga hit her squarely, making her scream in pain as her blood began to boil, threatening to break though her veins before it made her skin erupt.

If Isis was not who she was, the fight would have been over and lost.

***

Osiris felt Hatnofer's Heart Scarab squirm and shudder as he ran, pulled, guided, to where the blood the Anchor demanded was. It thrilled him, and though he didn't quite like to admit it, Isis was brilliant in bringing them in the castle Godric had been so proud of its fortifications. And the corridors were empty, the student curfew keeping the way clear for them to reach their targets fast and swiftly.

He was, of course, prepared to kill anyone who happened to be in his way- he was not the god of the dead for nothing- but it was far more convenient to simply go to where he wanted without hindrances.

And finally, he knew he was there. He couldn't quite see his quarry in the semi lit room full of beds- it looked like a healer's bay- but he didn't need to when his prey's blood just _called to him._ But what he did see, did amuse him. Wasn't this the insolent dog that had dared attack him, lying there helplessly upon the bed? Osiris could feel there was still life in that limp body- life he would take, as punishment. He swished his wand wordlessly towards where Nikos lay for a quick kill. The air hissed as the very atmosphere was manipulated to make a ghostly blade, traveling towards Nikos' exposed throat.

"C_onfuto venificus,_" whispered someone, and the spell came to a halt- but did not disperse. "_Reus__ hostilis!_"

To Osiris' surprise, his own spell bounced back at him- the most dangerous kind of combined attack and defense, because it forced the offending wizard to essentially guard against his own attack. And in Osiris' case, that was extremely powerful magic. Rasmus, hidden under Nikos' bed, did not wait for the prime wizard to defend- he attacked again, quickly.

"_Sectumsempra!_"

Osiris had to duck his own ghostly blade to avoid getting his throat slit- it was a wordless homing in spell of his own invention- and inadvertedly got caught in Rasmus' _Sectumsempra_. Immediately lesions began forming across his body, in a nasty faded memory of Seth's attack that had taken Osiris life. He growled, gripping his wand tightly, and muttered the counter spell- but Rasmus kept going, shouting his father's spell continuously, hoping not to allow Osiris any time to regroup or go onto the offensive again. Because if he did, Snape's son had no doubts that he _would_ be out of his league.

Osiris ignored the harsh slashes into his flesh that were forming just enough to make his attack, and once again without words a spell burst from his wand, pulverizing the bed Nikos was on and throwing both Rasmus and Nikos on the far side of the infirmary. Nikos groaned, but didn't seem to be stirring any further, and Rasmus was certain he had broken something in his left leg. _Idiot! Coming here was a mistake!_

Poppy chose that moment to enter the infirmary, wand out, but Osiris was too angered and too quick for her. He hissed something that sounded alien and, although Pomfrey did manage to yell a _protego_, it did nearly nothing to protect her from the curse, and she flew back through the door in a sickening, crushing thud.

"Impudent little _kefa_," Osiris spit as the slashes from Rasmus' _sectumsempra_ healed, under the power of Hatnofer's Heart Scarab pulsing in his chest. "You shouldn't try to make me waste your blood. That's mine."

Rasmus hissed another spell through teeth serrated from the pain, but Osiris blocked it with the ease of blocking a fly. He jerked his wand upwards once, and Rasmus' wand hand twisted around and up with a resonating _crack_. It was all he could do not to scream his heart out- and his wand rolled away towards Nikos' still form. He felt himself being pulled by magic to the loathed enemy- he was classes above anything he had ever seen in dueling, including his uncle. Nobody had managed to beat _sectumsempra_ without needing to run away, without needing full attention to reversing the spell. Osiris had done it in mere seconds, and without chanting anything as far as Rasmus could tell.

Suspended as he was in the air, with pain shooting up from two limbs so terribly and disarmed, Rasmus' mind reeled to try and focus enough to set in motion the insurance he had had the time to think up in his mind. He was not given the chance- Osiris was extremely quick. The prime wizard's eyes began to shine with an odd deep green colour as from his wand a blue ribbon-like wisp like the web from a spider's spinneret timidly ensured. Rasmus began to try and whisper his own defense, but the bluish web-like thing shot forth and held him fast as Osiris chanted:

"_Vaahana rakta, rudhira maanasa jiivita._"

And all thought for defense left Rasmus as he yelled in agony. The webbing crawled around him swiftly and dug into his chest- and as soon as that happened, it turned blood red. Osiris kept chanting it, and Hatnofer's Heart Scarab pulled from the blood of Aello's son the saturation it had been denied by Nikos.

"_Tarantallegra!_" yelled a voice from outside the infirmary, and Osiris found himself needing to stop yet one more of those jokes of a spell- and it would have made no difference normally, even as the bond of blood was still active, but the quarry's fight had taken energy from Osiris that he didn't have, not without his Anchor properly satiated. And so the brilliance of the crimson webbing that sapped Rasmus' blood began dimming, though it didn't break, as Osiris waved his wand to stop the jinx, and kill the one who cast it.

Finn had been shocked beyond words at what was taking place in the infirmary, terribly regretting following Rasmus out past curfew. He had nearly turned his back to leave, while whatever devil had killed Pomfrey did not yet notice him- but something in that bloodcurdling yell made the fifth year stop in his tracks and consider if a hit and run could not be done.

He was, of course, wrong. Not only did that green-tinted man curse him to the spot by simply glancing at him, he was about to kill him without even stopping whatever torture he was putting his friend under. _Stupid, stupid! You should have left when you had the chance!_

"_Servo omnimodus!_ Beat it kid!"

Someone yanked Finn backwards, away from the spot where the curse intended for him gouged a hole in the floor, and Finn just kept on running, not caring who it was that had saved his life- though he _did_ think it had been someone he'd heard before.

It took all of Harry's determination to not freeze in his tracks upon the sight that met him after the Slytherin student bolted. Though he _knew_ he would be facing Osiris, it was one thing to be told about him, and quite another to look upon him. He grit his teeth, knowing Ron and Hermione had his back. He only hoped Bai and McGonagall would be enough for Isis- and whoever else the headmistress had solicited help from. _I hope she got help from more._

Harry pointed his wand at Osiris, decided to gain the man's full attention, and break whatever spell was taking place before it killed Snape's son.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" he bellowed, fully intending to floor the nearly two-meter tall wizard if he got _that_ lucky. Ron, beside him, shouted the exact same curse. The bolts of green lightning shot out towards Osiris, who indeed turned to fully face them. He chanted something, and the two curses diverted and ricocheted, and Harry and Ron had to duck behind the infirmary's door not to get hit by their own spells.

"Did you _see that!_" yelped Ron, but showed no signs of wanting to retreat.

"We need to keep going at him," Harry growled. "Distract him somehow."

"_Expecto Patronus!_" was Hermione's answer to Harry's bewilderment, as she had been a little further back.

A huge silvery otter burst forth towards Osiris, scurrying around him and keeping him from doing anything more than swat it away. Ron immediately followed her cue and unleashed his own patronus, while Harry shot the killing curse at the prime wizard once again.

Osiris growled again and made swift wandwork, blocking the killing curse by reversing it again, and dispersing the patronuses- and he also cast a massive spell that sent all oxygen out of the air where the three attacking wizards were. It sent Harry, Ron and Hermione gasping and racing to counter it. But in doing all of it, he stopped paying attention to his quarry.

And it gave Rasmus the capacity to push the pain back and grit his teeth as he called, raising his good arm towards Poppy's shelves.

"_Accio_ Pepperup Potion!"

Several bottles of the thing flew towards him, and Rasmus cried from the effort as he _pushed_ the bottles to fall at Osiris' feet, where several of them smashed. He direly wished for his wand, but he had no time, and could not afford to be disarmed by Osiris while he had this small window of opening that had been bought for him.

He raised his arm again.

"_Accio_ Skele-gro!"

The whitish bottles followed the course of the other ones, and smashed over them- and the result was spectacular as the potions blew up all around Osiris with such violence that the man's leg was nearly blown out of its socket. Osiris was the one that growled in pain this time, and Rasmus was dropped in a heap upon the floor, the web-like connection that siphoned his blood to Osiris severed.

"_Accio wand!_" rasped Rasmus and his wand flew in his shaking left hand.

Then he turned and glared at the one who had twice stolen from him, and pointed his wand.

***

_And that's the first part over! I hope you enjoyed this. There is a very valid reason why Rasmus was in the infirmary, that inadvertedly led Osiris there. As for the two medicinal potions that blow up when mixed, I searched for any that actually do that in canon, found none, so I used the one which makes impressive smoke, and another that promises to have some sort of highly reactive agent in it. If you have a better combo to suggest, please tell me! _

_And yes, Rasmus is a wiz with Potions. :D _

_Okay, now for the spells. Apart from the bad latin, there's also the 'ancient' ones in Sanskrit. The 'servo' ones are strong shielding spells. "Confuto venificus- __reus__ hostilis" is really bad latin for 'reverse spells' like a mirror bouncing combo spell. It is one of Nikos' creations. _

_The words for the Sanskrit spell more or less say 'transfer blood and imbue with life' but in a sly way… _

_Osiris calls Rasmus _kefa_ which is ancient Egyptian for 'servant/ slave'. Oh, and Wadjet, is the most ancient Egyptian goddess, the Egyptian Cobra goddess, and is considered the most powerful of them. Isis is always an affiliated goddess of sorts, and she did seem to have her aid against Ra when she blackmailed him into learning his 'real name' and thus order him around. For this story, I made Wadjet a prime witch and Isis' mother.  
_

_If I forgot anything, ask and I'll answer :) _

**_Melora_**_: thank you for reading and the offer. However I simply have no time for role play- I do write professionally as well, and have scientific work to do too. But I really appreciate it. _

**_Duj_**_: Very true… but he was not really going to fight head on. It just didn't play out the way he wanted it. We'll see what he'd aimed for later. _

**_Tuber_**_: well, in that case I am not the author for you. I tend to let the characters tell their backstory when they are ready to do it, rather than pump it out of them by force._

**_RebeccaRoy_**_: Yeah… I hope I won't have to today. _

**_Sindie_**_: No need for apologies! I literally didn't see your review and added a response later, which is why I wasn't certain if it hadn't been eaten again. Thank you for this great review! Rasmus kind of doesn't care about Hogwarts. He just isn't going to sit back and let the murderers of his mother and almost of his godfather walk. It would be dishonour in Greek code, and Rasmus isn't about to let that happen. And I'm happy you feel Severus is still Severus, while being a dad. _

**_Zoe Bright_**_: yup! But Rasmus would smirk snarkily and say 'well too bad he's too dead to act on it'. Of course there's still Nikos… for now… _

_So that's that! Tomorrow, the second and most likely final part of the fight! (it's not a battle, is it?)_


	28. Tumult

_Hello, hello! _

_You know I __still__ can't upload a new document for some reason. I don't know why FF is being so difficult. Oh well. Good thing I got documents already uploaded to cheat new chapters in. ;) _

_Onwards! Chapter 28. _

_*** _

Septima's hand trembled as the chart completed itself, and the havoc making the stone groan ensued just a little bit after. What was she to do? She was no dueller, she had no chance to be able to defend better than those already there, defending. Call in aurors? By the time they got here, everything worth stopping will have already taken place. What could she do? What could she _do_?

"Vector. _Vector!_ Stop gawking and shivering and _be useful_!"

Professor Vector flinched at the voice- and turned towards Severus Snape, who was glowering in the frame hanging above her seat in her office. The original witch of the painting was cowering in the lower right corner.

"What do you want me to do?" she said, partly wondering at her own self that she was willing to take direction from a portrait.

"You _must_ wake Galanos," Severus said, his hand working as if vexed he couldn't do it himself and had to have someone else fill in. "You _must_ make him overcome Pomfrey's spell and wake before it's too late. He is the only one who can still get _them_ to go away. Now, Vector!"

"H-how?" Septima stammered, although she already had an idea.

Severus Snape rolled his eyes but bit back whatever scathing rose instinctively to his mind.

"Begin with the sigil he taught you, and I will guide you through the rest of the Arithmancy when you need it."

Professor Vector dry-swallowed, and nearly winced like a student when Snape's portrait thundered:

"_Now!_"

***

Even as Isis' veins started becoming a black network of river pattern under her skin under Bai's Antahiga, she grinned, shoving one hand forward towards Bai and one hand backward towards Minerva. Minerva gasped, bringing her hand up to her throat as it seemed to seal off, choking her, and Bai was thrown with force off his feet and against the wall. Her eyes flashed, her pupils narrowing and becoming vertical like a cobra's. She laughed once, but her voice changed pitch and echoed in parseltongue.

Isis licked her lips and chanted in the odd language that only the rare, the few, the select chosen ones had been endowed with, invoking her mother's power to cancel out the strong spell of the ex-auror while keeping Minerva in the deathgrip of suffocation that also forbade her to speak any spell words. A low green glow began building around her body and the hand pointed towards Bai began weaving gently in the air, and Guiren Bai yelled, falling back to his knees.

The DADA professor writhed and fell further on his back, clutching at his stomach and torso. Blood began pooling, seeping through his heavy robes, but the man refused to release his wand.

"_Durus Stupefy!_"

The spell hit Isis as someone rushed up the long corridor. Professor Frideswide skidded to a halt next to Bai as Isis staggered, flipping over herself before she crashed on the ground, effectively releasing Minerva as well. The Headmistress rasped, filling her lungs with oxygen.

Isis swiped at the air with her fingers clawed as she appeared to simply glide back to a standing position, and Erna's wand snapped in two in her hand. Erna's eyes widened behind her glasses.

"You bitch!" she cussed, reaching behind in her jeans pocket, and pulling out a very muggle, antic looking revolver in one smooth move, squeezing the trigger in fractions of a second. The round echoed, the alien sound reverberating in the corridor, and Isis screamed as the bulled pierced through her palm in a blossoming of blood. Her fingers immediately looked crooked and off in position, the gold-tipped finger cap in one hissing acidically.

Bai groaned, his eyes tearing with the pain, but also flashing with insight.

"Take them… _off_!" he gasped, his grasp loosening. "Gold…fingers…off…"

Frideswide didn't seem to realize what the ex-auror was meaning, but she pulled the cock of her revolver back again to shoot at Isis' head, not waiting to try and puzzle it out. She got another round off, but Isis' reptilian-looking eyes flashed, and the bullet simply fell uselessly to the floor. Frideswide ducked to the side, avoiding the spell the prime witch shot at her with her other hand, and yanked Bai's wand from his slippery hand.

"_Incendia Tellum!"_ she screamed and a volley of hissing darts were unleashed against Isis.

Losing use of her left hand was costing Isis, and what she would have simply swiped away she almost got skewered with, and so had to pay special attention to Frideswide's curse- and Minerva had her chance to use Bai's advice.

"_Aufero aurum!_" McGonagall rasped, and the typical jeweler's charm to hone gold assaulted Isis' golden finger caps, threatening to make them melt away. Isis screamed and in her fear and shock she stopped feeling the gunshot wound's pain. She clasped her hands together and cancelled out the spell, but she had lost advantage. She couldn't afford to play any longer.

And she couldn't walk away being a loser.

"_Caedo Flamma!"_ she yelled and the air around her seemed to implode. Bai gurgled blood, his eyes rolling into his skull, Frideswide crumpled like a puppet that got its strings severed, an up to then invisible shield shattering into many glittering pieces, and it was only Minerva McGonagall that managed not to lose consciousness, and only because she had cast about three consecutive shields around herself. _I am not going to let you have my heart, crone!_ She thought at Isis furiously as she watched her shields shatter one after the other under the powerful spell.

"_Vartadhve maamaka ajiiva,_" the ancient witch intoned, and though Minerva did try to guard, she had no idea what was flying at her, and how to avoid a spell that had no direction or focus- and so it hit her, and she fell too, before the pain even registered.

***

Osiris twirled his wand as it was pointed towards the door, while his hand gripped his mangled leg, furiously calling upon the Heart to fix it. It had been lucky that the siphoning was nearly complete- the Heart had enough of Aello's son's life blood to protect his body from destruction of any sort. The pallor of the boy that was calling his wand to him, the shaking of his hand showed that most of his blood was within Osiris, that the waif had missed fainting and dying of exsanguination by a hair. He was done here, and with it. His real interest now was outside that door, that pumping heart in the dark haired fledgling of a man who had tried to kill him with a lesser curse, and kept trying as if repetition would somehow work.

Osiris fired a killing spell at the red headed man- he flew out of the way with a scream, and the scrap of a female behind the heart he wanted also screamed a name and rushed after the redhead.

"Give me my heart," Osiris purred with a slight grin, and jabbed his wand at the dark haired man's chest. The rapidly pumping heart within that chest called to him with power and light that he always loved to devour. Such a heart glowing with such _force_, pumping in his canopic jar base would see him through more than a century, of that he was certain.

To his credit, Harry did not waste time answering. The utter fear that Ron was dead somewhere behind him in the corridor mixed with the anger that was too scathing and raging to even begin to put into words. Rasmus had put a dent in this force that Osiris was, and Harry was going to make it as wide as he possibly could, and then shoot the damn Kedavra in it for good measure.

"_Altus Confrigo!_" he bellowed, ready to dodge and guard just in case, aiming at the bad leg of the tall ancient wizard. The spell traveled swiftly and smashed impressively against the very spot where the potion bomb Rasmus had invoked had initially mangled it. It had already begun to close up, creepily like an invisible hand was moulding flesh over the bone that had peeked through.

Rasmus growled his own curse to prevent Osiris from countering Harry's, using the same medicinal-type attack he had used on Bai to stop him from casting. It hit Osiris from the side, and it bought them yet a little more time. Rasmus couldn't understand why the wizard was not leaving. He had gotten what he wanted. What did he still have to get from- his eyes widened in horror. He had blasted Ron, was not interested in Hermione, and was looking at _Harry Potter_ with interest.

"Watch it Harry!" he yelled. "It's you he wants!"

"What a big surprise," muttered Harry under his breath as he ducked again from another spell behind the wall. Whatever it was, it sliced right through the thick stone wall and cut into Harry's flesh nonetheless, and red began spreading down his pants in a slow, definite manner.

In the same time, Osiris threw his hand forward- he kept his wand trained towards Harry, trying to get a clear shot and yank out his heart still beating, like in the land of Aztec- and Rasmus flew off the floor again and slammed against a cloth blind that broke his fall and spared his ribs from bruising. He did land on his broken leg though, and it rendered him motionless for a moment- a moment too much, because Potter could die in less than that, with Osiris there.

A cold, nearly clammy hand closed around his upper arm.

"Don't… don't move. Wand."

The voice was soundless and raspy, but it was the stroke of hope that Rasmus had given up on. Nikos' eyes were heavy lidded and all of his body seemed to be moving with gravity pulling on his limbs twice as much as everyone else's. Rasmus said nothing, but slipped his wand into his godfather's trembling fingers. Nikos winked once, then turned his eyes to the prime wizard that was trying to hit Harry. He had already punched about four holes into the infirmary wall.

Nikos whispered and breathed upon the wand gently, as if he didn't have a care in the world. Rasmus hoped that the stutter and continuous panting that didn't leave his godfather's breath would not mess with whatever it was he was doing. The wand glowed golden- and as soon as it did, he began tracing an intricate looking knot on the air. The gold wisp followed his tracing as if unloading the golden glow like ink from a pen. Rasmus shivered- the wisp was very much like the one that had siphoned away his blood…

The knotwork looked soon very intricate, and Nikos paused, breathing in-

Osiris stopped and turned, eyes wide in hateful surprise, forgetting Harry-

Nikos simply flicked the wand tip forward and the golden wisp shot forth, snagging Osiris like a trap, then throwing him out of the infirmary window while the wizard yelled counterspells in panicked frenzy.

Silence reigned in the destroyed infirmary, and immediately the air began smelling like blood and debris.

Nikos' eyes closed and he lay back, exhausted, breathing in heavily with Rasmus' wand still in his hand. Worried shouts and talking was wafting from outside the infirmary now.

"Godfather, how…? Are- are you _alright_?" asked Rasmus in rapid Greek, ignoring his own pain as he looked upon Nikos' form.

"You… have a _ton_ to explain," Nikos slurred breathlessly, looking at his godson and nephew from under his eyelashes, wand lying upon his chest under his loose hand and wheezing the whole time.

And though he had every reason to be horrified and shocked, Rasmus just smiled.

***

_And that's that! It __**almost **__completes this skirmish. Aftermath comes tomorrow if I manage to write it due to schedule or the day after at the latest. _

_Sanskrit for Isis' spell that hits McGonagall is more or less saying 'you are dead for me'. The radial spell is a killing spell. _

_Now, the spell Nikos did is a Knot Spell. The Egyptians (and especially Isis cult) felt that knots were magical, and very important for magic to 'hold' when invoking the power of certain gods. Isis was one of those, and Knot Spells are very important for this story (as Nikos will eventually explain). The spell Osiris used on Rasmus is another knot spell, by the way. _

_**Angeleye68:**__ Thank you for all your great reviews! I greatly enjoy ones where readers tell me their thoughts and speculations about the plot and characters. I am happy you are enjoying it. _

_**Sindie**__: See? It eats reviews! And I don't mind negative reviews. Like I said, sometimes an author is not a good match for a certain reader. And sometimes a reader is not ready for a certain author yet. ;) How do you like this chapter, eh? _

_**Oryx**__: well, you can't deny that many feel that way, can you? _

_**Mandya1313**__: thanks!_

_**Zoe Bright:**__ I'm glad you enjoyed! And that mental image about Osiris made me laugh- and think about the Hulk next. You know- if he was more cultured and liked to wear trinkets. _

_Till tomorrow!_


	29. Impact

_Hello hello! _

_I am ahead a bit in my work today (or behind if we zoom out a little bit, but we won't) and so I am beginning with this new chapter. Have you realized that we are almost at 30 chapters already? And FF loves my documents again! _

_So, onwards! Chapter 29._

_***_

"Ron! _Ron!_ Work with me, please, _please_!" Hermione begged as she moved her wand quickly trying to quench bleeding that seemed to be coming from everywhere. Ron's eyes were shut, just like Rasmus' had been only a few days ago in the courtyard, and _still_ that monstrous wizard was there, fighting Harry- just Harry! Hermione knew that she had to go help the Boy Who Lived, but leaving Ron bleeding out meant that she was sealing his end. Hermione simply could _not_ have that. Rasmus would help Harry, help would come- Harry was lucky, Ron was not, and Hermione knew her heart would break and soul would shatter if she lost him.

The wall got blasted, but Harry was still standing, shouting spells and hexes that were ludricrous, but he was still standing, and Hermione was still fighting the bleeding that just _wouldn't stop_.

"Please, Ron… please Ron… please…" she didn't even notice the tears as she used every single first aid and medicinal spell she could recall and remember. What was it that Snape had used against Harry's sectumsempra on Malfoy? Maybe that would work, Hermione had studied it, to be ready. What was it, what was it?

There was silence behind her now, but she didn't dare stop, she kept her back turned, decided to just let herself be killed along with Ron and Harry and everyone else if Osiris had won. But no curse came, and she continued quenching bleeding, reciting the words that Snape had used, enhancing them with everything else her fertile mind provided, and Ron gasped with a shudder, stirring a little.

"Thank you! Oh, thank you!" Hermione cried, gathering up the lax and blood-covered body of the one who had her heart.

"Her…mi…one," Ron whispered through lips that nearly didn't move. "pro…tect… yourself…"

It made Hermione just cry harder. Harry's hand on her shoulder, and his laboured, fearful voice just seemed to reach her ears suddenly.

"Hermione, is he dead? Hermione!"

"No, he… he's here," Hermione gasped, glancing upwards at Harry. Harry was hurt, too, barely standing, she could see it. But he was not paying attention to his drenched pant leg or any of the bruises, welts and scrapes he had acquired. He was gripping his wand tightly.

"Good. Help Rasmus inside. Osiris has gone somehow. I need to go down to Bai and the rest. Isis is supposed to be stronger than him."

And without waiting any further, he just ran off, favouring his injured leg and leaving one-sided bloody footprints… and Hermione was ashamed of her own self.

***

Professor Vector sank back onto her chair, the arithmancy complete. Her mind swam with the sheer force everything she did demanded when done on the basis of the Sigils the Auguror had taught her. They were like static sketches on paper that suddenly came to life by some other, new manipulation of them. Snape's portrait had not really needed to guide her in the arithmancy, just point out the steps she needed to take to slightly _alter_ the potency of Nikos' force on the sleeping draught and spell he had been put under, so that the Greek could wake. All it had taken was the sigil to grant her access to that system of forces _in the real dimension_, and she had done it, making the theory on the paper _real_.

It frightened her.

She turned to the portrait, to ask Snape what now, but the potions master had left the witch's frame, and the original witch was shakily reclaiming her position in it. Professor Vector frowned to herself and picked up her wand. She could not fight like aurors and duelers, but she had to do more to help, until the new weapon she had acquired could be learned further- and for that to happen, whoever was attacking needed to leave Hogwarts failed.

Septima Vector ran out of her office, despite McGonagall's orders not to.

***

"Oh, my dear! Wake, my dear, wake, or more death than what I foresaw will happen!"

Frideswide groaned and coughed up blood. She peered through broken glasses into Trelawney's thick lenses, and gasped, glancing around.

"Sybil? Wha- where?"

"Here, help her, you can do it, can't you?" the seer urged and pulled, and as Erna was yanked forward, she felt the whole corridor swim and she hurled to the side. _Am I bleeding internally? Merlin, I hope not._ She wiped her mouth and looked at the Headmistress- and that glance was enough to put her own injuries to the back of her mind.

Clutching the wand, and with Sybil's help, she went over to where Minerva was sprawled like an odd rag doll. Blood was trickling down her nose, but other than that she looked immaculate. Frideswide frowned and swished the wand to diagnose her, and her heart dropped to her stomach. Crushed ribcage, punctured and collapsed lung, bruised liver- everything inside her looked as if an invisible hand had sought to yank the headmistress' innards out through her skin.

"What happened?" she muttered, loathe to ask Sybil for any sort of information and need to pick through proclamations and quasi-prophesies for information somewhat relevant. But the aloof-sounding woman surprised her by being remarkably concise present at adversity and urgency.

"My inner eye told me to come to your aid," she began while Frideswide worked, "and I saw the bird woman about to kill Minerva- I simply curse her away," she finished, causing Frideswide to pause in between spells and look at her myopically.

"You… _simply_ cursed her away, Sybil?" she intoned. It was not like Trelawney not to brag.

The frizzy haired witch just looked back and nodded.

"Yes… she flew off," Trelawney gesticulated, making her many bracelets jingle.

"I will need help," Erna muttered, expertly giving McGonagall the first aid she needed, but feeling her own body threatening to give out- the chill that was overcoming her was indicating that indeed there was internal bleeding. She already felt the nausea again. "Sybil, get me Poppy- someone."

Sybil left without any other word. Erna continued working. She charmed the crucial ribs puncturing the lung to snap back into place- she had no luxury for subtleties, and fixed the lung. She coughed and wiped the bit of blood on her sleeve, continuing until she was certain that the headmistress would not die. She looked at her wand- no, not her wand. That staggeringly powerful witch broke it. This was-

Frideswide turned sharply, and nearly collapsed to the side herself.

"Guiren! Guiren!"

How could she have forgotten about him? It was his wand- he hadn't moved. She tried to get up to go to him- he was on the other side- but without Trelawney's help, she found her legs refused to support her. She crawled on all fours to him- when had the distance become so big?

She finally reached him, just as Harry's voice echoed through water. Suddenly, everything seemed to be through water to Frideswide- her hearing, her sight- she blinked away tears. Harry was talking to her, but she couldn't hear him through all the water in her ears, and she had to do something for the man. Even though she knew it was in vain even as she touched him.

"I'm sorry, Guiren," she cried, or thought she cried. She couldn't quite see any longer, and felt criminal that she hadn't thought to use the ex-auror's wand on him to save his life when she still could? Why hadn't she cast a bigger shield?

"Professor, it's okay," Harry was saying, gritting his own teeth and holding it together for later, for when he would unleash it on those who deserved it. "It's ok."

Frideswide didn't seem to realize that Harry was holding her upwards, and she looked to be rapidly deteriorating herself, coughing up blood and crying, as she was trying in vain to cast something on Guiren Bai's already chilling body.

"It's okay, professor," he repeated, at a loss as to how to help her, until Hermione came with Flitwick, Vector and Sprout, and it was time to just sit on the floor, head in hands, and wonder just how they were going to go against dark ones _like that._

***

Nikos fixed Rasmus' fracture at his hip with one of his most powerful spells, and put a painkilling charm on the wrist so that he would be able to pay special attention to it later. Rasmus breathed with more ease immediately, but his godfather cut him off when he tried to thank him. Nikos looked racing for his breath, still- not a good sign.

"Be a lad, Roc, and get me something to set me straight," Nikos said, pulling himself up to a propped position carefully, feeling his heart going a mile a minute. Rasmus nodded numbly and got up slowly to go towards Poppy's shelves- where Poppy was still lying. His eyes met with Harry Potter's, who was standing at the infirmary's door, favouring his bad leg.

"Alright there?" Potter asked, and it seemed ridiculous among the debris, the collapsed bodies, the broken windows, the destroyed beds and nearly demolished wall. Rasmus wanted to smile, but could not find it in him. He simply nodded.

"Yeah. Go," he said, his feet making crunching sounds and tinkering clinks as he carefully made his way to the shelves.

And Harry went.

Rasmus picked up the strengthening potion he knew his godfather needed, and eyed the blood replenisher two bottles to the left. He sighed and picked that as well, and uncorked it to drink it.

Nikos watched in approval as Rasmus tended the other potion to him.

"Pomfrey?" he asked, waiting for the strengthening to kick in.

"Dead, I think," Rasmus said.

"How are you?" Nikos frowned, appraising him with the Healer's eyes. "Did he complete the leeching curse?"

"No," Rasmus muttered. "No, I- I didn't let it drain me."

Nikos nodded, and breathed in, rubbing at his chest. He offered Rasmus' wand to him in silence. Rasmus took it silently, not daring look Nikos in the eyes.

"I take it that everyone knows now that Isis and Osiris are back," Nikos sighed, groaning as he picked himself up. "_Accio_ wand." Nikos' wand jumped through the debris and into the Healer's hand.

"Yes," Rasmus swallowed, fixing the beds and the destruction around them for his godfather to be able to work. "It's a miracle they didn't kill us out right."

"But he got enough of your blood- _life_ blood," Nikos said. "What I fought to take from him- no, _succeeded_ in taking."

Rasmus winced to himself at the stern tone his godfather suddenly took- because unlike his father, Nikos took that tone only when he was right.

"Godfather, I-"

"We'll discuss it when we've tidied up- Isis won't be back now, she will need to hunt elsewhere for Osiris' sustenance." Nikos did not look at him as he walked past Rasmus and towards where Ron was lying. Rasmus bit the inside of his cheek and continued fixing the infirmary with his wand while Nikos smiled encouragingly at Hermione and assured her of Ron's safety before she ran off, following Harry's steps.

Rasmus felt burdened with blame and responsibility as he spelled Madame Pomfrey's body upon a bed, and then watched as Nikos brought Ron in and set on working on him. If he _had_ followed his father's urging to hide, would this have been better? Was he responsible for everyone who had died?

_I only wanted to take godfather to hiding with me. How did I mess up so much?_

***

_And that's that! I hope you don't hate me too much- Ron and McGonagall are, eh, more or less intact… hm. And we do have body count but just to be fair, one of canon cast and one of OC cast. What do you think? _

_Tomorrow we see what happened to __Isis__ and Osiris, and talks that are important for how this story will progress. _

**_Duj_**_: it does, doesn't it? I'm happy, that's what I wanted it to seem. _

**_RebeccaRoy_**_: fully gone? Well, they're gone from the premises right now. They can't be fully gone that easily. (remember that I said if taking this route, the story would be LONG? Well… it's their fault. Heh heh!) _

**_Mandya1313:_**_ thanks!_

**_Angeleye68_**_: Yeah, that was a little funny wasn't it? And I hope you like this chapter, too! We have only gotten a taste yet. _

**_Zoe Bright_**_: Frideswide loves muggle trinkets, and hence the gun! Golden caps on the fingers which the mummies tended to wear, struck me as a good means to focus magic power instead of a wand. And here, Ron and Minerva are in the clear- for now. ;) _

**_Sindie_**_: Well, let's call it a tie, so far as I think near the entire teaching staff will need to take a break. Heh! _


	30. Regrouping

_Hello, hello! _

_I'm just off work, and ready to tackle this chapter! _

_Onwards! Chapter 30! (milestone!) _

***

Minerva opened her eyes slowly, and wondered if she was waking from a particularly wild firewhiskey party- _bad_ firewhiskey party, of the day back in the 1940s when young graduates knew how to hold their liquor until the next day.

"Well, hello there, Headmistress. How are you feeling?"

The voice dispersed the make belief that she was twenty again and about to be shown a particularly embarrassing snapshot of her swinging her garters over her head to underline how emancipated her drunkenness had been, and she was seventy five and responsible for a school that had been under attack only-

"Nikos," she said with a slight sigh of confusion. "How- how long have I been… where is Isis?"

"Isis left, to hunt elsewhere for Osiris' needs," the Healer said softly, peering at the infirmary's bedside table where an assortment of little bottles and vials had been laid out. He picked one and smiled at her encouragingly. "And you must drink this, if you want any more information out of me." He dangled the phial in front of her nose.

McGonagall rolled her eyes at his decidedly healer-ish tone, and made a cursory effort to sit up. She found it wasn't impossible, even if the room did swirl once around her. Her temples beat with a splitting headache, and she reached for the potion half propped up as she was, hoping it was analgesic.

"Thank you," Nikos grinned, when she made a face but nevertheless drank the liquid to the last drop without complaint. "Few patients are actually adult about things like awful taste."

"Mh," Minerva looked around her. There was young Weasley upon a bed, sleeping peacefully and surrounded by a frightfully abundant pile of get well cards and gifts and chocolates, but otherwise the infirmary was empty, neat, and without any trace of the mess of emergency. "Where is Poppy?" she finally asked. "Aren't you still her patient?"

Nikos didn't look down or take on any bracing expression- he kept looking at Minerva, holding her glance with his amber eyes and said simply, in the voice of a person that has seen much death and announced a good part of it to others:

"She was murdered by Osiris, Minerva. She died wand out, a true defender."

Minerva simply stared.

"D-dead? _Poppy _is _dead_?" it tasted badly and alien in her mouth. Somehow, it was an unreal notion, that the Hogwarts matron would die a violent death- after having survived Voldemort himself and the Carrows. Nikos nodded.

"Yes. I'm very sorry. The rest of your staff buried her in the Hogwarts cemetery- I'm told she had no living relatives to claim her."

"No… no, she didn't," Minerva intoned, but her emotions were still inaccessible- she knew there was storm, havoc somewhere in her heart, but only the shivers of its shock registered at the pit of her stomach, and only vaguely. _Well, just what you need. You need to be at the wheel now, not crying like a ninny._ "Who else?" her voice was hoarse.

"Professor Bai," Nikos said. "There were some injuries, but none of them were allowed to be fatal. You have dedicated staff, Headmistress. I am not at all amazed; Severus would always say as much."

Minerva bit her lip, glancing around a little again, then back at Nikos again.

"We will need to talk. How much time have I lost?"

"Don't feel pressed," Nikos said gently, watching her carefully with the scrutiny of the medic. "You have been asleep for three days. Professor Flitwick is in charge, and he has kept both press and the Minister at bay. Nobody knows exactly what took place. I and Professor Frideswide have been filling in for Poppy, and everything except the Defense class is working as scheduled."

That was a relief, but Minerva had to see it, had to get out of the sick bed and _do_ things- everything, _everything_ that needed to be done, she would do, so that she wouldn't have to stop and think about how two members of her staff died _on her watch_, and she could do nothing about it.

"Mr. Galanos," she said in a curt, cut voice. "I need to leave this bed, and get to my office. See to it that I can do that now, please."

Nikos smiled, and didn't comment on the fact that he was not a member of her staff to be ordered around like that. He nodded and said:

"You need to eat what I've asked the house elves to prepare for you. After that, if you take those two potions and make sure you rest adequately, you'll be good to go."

The tray popped in front of Minerva, and she dutifully began to eat, forking the soft boiled food angrily. _Had Albus felt that way when Voldemort had his way?_

***

The man in the muggle post office had received his orders. Dolohov's death had made an impression on everyone, especially since, according to their new leader, it was done quickly, easily and for punishment of some sort. But Dolohov was not easy prey, and known to turn on anyone who threatened his life, or at least run away. For their new leader to have killed him with the ease of squashing an ant spoke volumes of the potency and the potential she had, including how well she could lead them to where Voldemort had failed. So even though she forced him to work in the place of human vermin, as were muggles, he did so, and directed the communication of the scattered gang through the muggle mail, depositing the black envelopes when told- and the addresses would appear on the paper after they were in the mail sack, away from his eyes. It was invisible to the wizarding world, and therefore completely safe for any clandestine wizarding activity.

It took a genius to think that way. The man smirked to himself as he deposited the pile of black letters. Some sort of gathering was afoot, he was certain of it.

***

Osiris was brooding, glaring at Isis as she paced in their room. The canopic jar lids, with their jackal heads were glowing powerfully, their hunger for the heart of the dead satiated.

"Unicorn hearts are not what we were aiming for, Usat," he said. "How is it possible that you could fail?"

"I did not fail," Isis growled, looking at her hand that had been shot by Frideswide. It was pristine now, with smooth tan skin. "I was extracting the heart for you, when you allowed the only wizard in that entire edifice to live long enough to cast the Protection Knot against you. If you hadn't, we wouldn't be using the unicorn hearts now."

Osiris clicked his tongue and scowled, effectively chastised. The Knot charms were too powerful if they were not stopped before the caster completed the knot pattern. Only a couple of wizards had ever managed to break them over the millennia of his knowledge, and being a prime one or not seemed to be irrelevant to the matter. Isis feared knot charms- it was the only thing that she feared as far as Osiris knew.

"And what of the Key? We still only have our own."

"It is here, in this country. That much is ascertained. And it is around in the area of Godric and Salazar and their school. We will find it- I have issued orders."

"But we must not only find it but regain its mastery. As far as I know, Salazar is dead."

"Whoever has beaten his heir, can be fought over for the mastery," Isis muttered. "That should not be worrying you at all, Ausar. Or did those cockroaches manage to trouble you?"

"No," Osiris snapped. He glanced around, twirling his wand. They would need to find some other place than the British Museum to be. "Our brief stay in the land of Celts does not trouble me, Usat. What will happen in Hellas does."

"Nothing will happen in Hellas," groused Isis, her eyes flashing. "Now, get ready; my followers have prepared our abode for us."

The way Isis said it made Osiris smile, and forget his dejectedness about using Unicorn hearts, that would, should they fail to assemble and use the Keys, keep him asleep for three centuries after their expiring. Even though the hearts of unicorns always kept for a century or two, he loathed the downtime they imposed- something that human wizard hearts never did.

***

Nikos had to actually go looking for Rasmus- the boy had been cooperative and obedient at first, where Nikos needed all the help he could get, but as soon as Frideswide was able to assist him instead, his nephew had all but completely disappeared. He did attend classes; that much he knew.

So he lurked in the corridor right outside the dungeons, waiting for Frideswide's advanced Potions class to end, and snag his godson before he could find an excuse and take off. Soon enough, the doors opened indeed and some ten students filed out, chattering between them- it was almost as if nothing had happened, Nikos thought. In Greece, the gossip and slanted numbness would be obvious for at least a month, and then go on to be latent for a few more. Here, while the gossip was virile as ever, the outward behavior seemed to snap back into place with an amazing rebound rate.

Except for Rasmus.

He filed out last, books tucked under his arm, and was thoughtful, eyebrows furrowed and the edges of his mouth turned downwards. He was wearing a black sweatshirt that day under his school robes, and for a moment he looked so much like Severus that Nikos had to shiver out of his place. He reached out and gripped Rasmus' upper arm. The boy raised up his eyes to him, his expression closed off.

"Hey," Nikos said in Greek quietly. "Don't you think it's time we talked?"

"I am not ready for it yet," Rasmus said in a voice that was painfully flat. "I am not, godfather."

"Listen," Nikos pressed nonetheless, trying to coax Rasmus to walk with him. "I fear I may have been unfair to you, with some things I told you- I was under pressure, and wasn't thinking right. Please, come on. We really need to talk."

"I _said_," Rasmus said in a mix of aggression and desperation as he pulled his arm from Nikos' grasp, "I am not ready yet, uncle. _Please_. And you were very fair. You were," he repeated again as an afterthought, and then sprinted away, saying he needed to go to class.

"You mustn't let him avoid you," Frideswide said, leaning against the heavy oak door, hands in her pockets. "He is self-flagellating."

"Did he tell you anything?" Nikos asked quickly. He wasn't really good with that sort of thing- that had been Aello, her area of expertise and even her muggle profession. Nikos constantly second guessed himself when needing to speak to Rasmus. Frideswide shook her head and sighed wiping her glasses on her sleeve.

"No. But I know kids, and I know how kids work when by themselves. I've been watching him brew in class today. Rasmus is letting what happened eat at him, and I'd wager good money he isn't talking to anyone. And Septima did say that the rest of the Slytherin students don't exactly line up to befriend him."

Nikos sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He nodded.

"Thank you, Erna. I really appreciate it- everything, really, that you've done for us so far. Everything you've done for me." He smiled thinly at her. Erna arched an eyebrow, then smiled as well.

"Well, for _you_ especially, I only did what we Healers do," she said and chuckled. "The rest involved defending my school and kids."

"It still was above and beyond," Nikos insisted, "and I feel I must thank you."

Erna took a mock bow.

"Thank you, kind sir," she said, and Nikos grinned thinly too, and turned to leave. "Nikos!" Erna called after him. The Auguror turned. "Did you thank Septima, too?"

Nikos looked confused for a moment.

"For sure," he said, and then continued on his way.

And Erna smiled to herself, and set on preparing for her next class.

***

_And that's that! A rather calm chapter today, setting the levels for the second part of this story. Second parts in stories are always my preferred ones, as most of the setting is in place and we can just enjoy actions and reaction. _

_I hope you like it- tomorrow we get to see a scene I had been waiting for since chapter two, and maybe set up for another. Drop me your thoughts at will! _

_**Celtic Goat**__: Yes, yes, thank you! I love getting responses from my readers. It's very refreshing and constructive most of the times. I actually am one of those who hate OCs in fanfiction, and I intended only two OCs just because I didn't want Harry as Snape's son. But then, it just kept getting more OCs because of the sheer time frame I'd picked. (I also didn't want an AU ) I'm happy you like it! _

_**Duj: **__Quite true. For the first round I thought something mild was the ticket. _

_**Sindie**__: Well, if this was a shorter fic, you may have been right to feel so. As it is now, we are more or less in the middle of it. _

_**Zoe Bright**__: That's true :( I hadn't actually planned on him dying, but he told me that would happen some chapters ago. He wouldn't be persuaded otherwise. As for Sybil: I think there's always more than meets the eye with her. We'll see. And yes, Hermione probably thinks she's a class A coward, the poor girl. I think everyone will be blaming themselves for a while. Thank you for such a great review!_

_**Angeleye68**__: Yup, I tend to update daily or every two days :) I only have time for speed-writing. And it DOES look to be a women fest all of a sudden, doesn't it? Hee hee! As for Rasmus, yes- he really just wanted to take Nikos to the safe room with him. He will fight fiercely to keep Nikos alive. And that does make him somewhat like Harry. And well, it wouldn't be Harry Potter if he caught a break, right? ;) _

_**RebeccaRoy:**__ Very true :( _


	31. Resetting

_Hello, hello! _

_Haven't got much to say, except, _

_Onwards! Chapter 31._

_*** _

Minerva watched Nikos enter her office a day later- Weasley had been discharged from the infirmary as well. The Greek Healer was doing justice to the reputation Healers from his homeland had. She herself felt better than ever, and not just recovered from a massive ancient curse. The man looked worn out as he walked in, though he was well groomed.

"Please, sit down, Nikos," she said as pleasantly as she could make it. It wasn't much. "Can I get you some tea?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to offend you," nodded Nikos politely as he sat down on the other side of her office. "Are you feeling well?"

"Quite," Minerva straightened up and cleared her throat. "Mr. Galanos, I have been talking to Ms. Gerakas, from your school."

Nikos frowned.

"I did message her with the happenings here. Is something wrong in Athens?"

"No," Minerva said. "But I wanted to be in accordance with your school before making you a different offer than the one we had agreed on."

The tea popped in front of them and Minerva gestured for Nikos to sip it. He arched an eyebrow.

"Is this laced with whiskey?"

"You look like you can use it," Minerva said primly. "Now- as I understand it, besides the intention of Isis to find whatever Osiris needed to sustain his life, they are here because one of the five Keys is hidden somewhere in Scotland."

Nikos just nodded, sipping the tea. Minerva folded her hands on the table, watching the man.

"From what Mr. Potter told me, and some of… the advice I have access to," Albus' and Severus' portraits appeared especially smug on either side of her, "you are the only living wizard able to ward off against prime wizards. Is that a fact?"

"I'm afraid so," Nikos said. "After my sister, I'm the only one- but that can be easily learned, if one takes the time to learn it."

Minerva smiled.

"Wonderful, Mr. Galanos," she leaned back in her chair. "I would like you to do just that- teach here, take the late Professor Bai's position."

"Me?" Nikos blinked. "Is that why you asked Athens? You want to hire me to fill in?"

"That is really a bad way to put it," the Headmistress countered. "I wouldn't ask just anyone to fill in- not with those two dark wizards prowling around. I want you to teach the students of this school, and make sure that you are not the only one who can defend against them. Because you know it as well as I, that they will return."

"They will go where the Key is," Nikos frowned. "And then they will follow the trace of the other three."

"The Key is hidden in this castle."

Minerva smiled as the voice from a portrait that was usually silent came, quite high up in the wall of Headmasters' portraits. The grey-haired figure of Salazar Slytherin himself leaned forward on his frame with a self-absorbed grin.

"And you cannot convince me that this young whippersnapper you brought in my school didn't force old Godric's Hat to sort him in my house, _exactly_ because you want a better chance of maybe looking for it in Slytherin House."

Nikos couldn't help grinning.

"Well, I guess you caught us." He turned his eyes to the Headmistress. "If I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts here, my lessons may be a little different to what Severus would say was the norm here. Would that be a problem?"

"Prime wizards are different from the norm," Minerva said with a smile. "If you release the students in one piece at the end of your teaching period, you are free to teach what they need to learn any way you see fit."

"Thank you," Nikos smiled, but his eyes twinkled with an unsettling fire. "In that case, Headmistress, I am honoured you find me a suitable replacement for Guiren Bai this year."

Minerva grinned as she watched Nikos take his leave, until Severus said:

"You do realize you just gave him _carte blanche_ to do anything as long as he doesn't mutilate those kids to death, do you, Minerva?"

***

Finn frowned as he watched Rasmus write furiously amid piles of books with obscure titles. His friend didn't look at all ok, and although usually studying stuff everyone else found boring relaxed and amused him, he only seemed to be getting himself strung up more and more with it. Finn exhaled, gathering up as much courage as he could muster and got out his wand.

Rasmus blinked as his papers and books suddenly disappeared from in front of him, and he glared.

"Hey! Bring it back, Finn. I'm not in the mood."

"Yeah, but you will be. C'mon," Finn said as he got up, grabbing Rasmus from his sweater and forcing him to be dragged off his chair. Rasmus swatted his hand away.

"Finn, either pop those book back on the table, or do it in three days when you return from the infirmary."

Finn frowned.

"No. No, man! You can't go on like this, trust me. You'll either wig out before you know it, or break your brain. You are coming with me- and after you've come with me and still don't want to act like a human being, you can come back here and accio your sodding books."

Finn's nearly serious tirade made an impression on Rasmus who was not used to listening to Finn do anything but jest or be an ass in class. It was enough to allow himself to be pulled out of the study room and towards the quidditch pitch. It was a bright Saturday afternoon, with just a little hint of frost to herald October.

Rasmus rolled his eyes.

"Will you release my arm already? I am following you anyway."

"Nope, dun' trust ya," Finn's brogue became more prominent again. "Not until yer playing and into the game."

"Playing the g- oh, no. I _never_ agreed to that," Rasmus planted his heels in the ground and refused to go any further. "I don't play quidditch."

"What? How can you _not_ play quidditch. Don't ya have the world's greatest game in Greece?"

Rasmus made a face.

"Yes we do have 'the world's greatest game' in Greece," he gestured the quotation marks with his fingers, "but it's not my thing. Sorry, I'll go back to my boring books now."

"Hey hey! Come on, no quidditch then, how about a few laps with the broom?" Finn begged. "You need some exercise to work all that brooding off, that's what my sister always says! And Justine says you must work out some way with that body you have."

Rasmus laughed.

"Are you telling me Justine's been checking me out? When? She only has eyes for Harperblott, who _does_ work out with the quidditch team."

"Ah, ye innocent of heart," Finn shook his head, one hand over his heart. "Justine is a flirty little butterfly, Rasmus- if you didn't have your nose in your books all the time, you'd know she tastes _all_ them flowers."

"Hey now!" Rasmus smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Those books are what get you all those nifty essay grades."

"A few laps with the brooms, and then I'll study with you," Finn grinned. "C'mon."

"No," Rasmus shook his head. "I don't do brooms."

Finn raised his eyebrows, and Rasmus groaned.

"You know what I meant! And whatever you say, I won't go broom-flying today or any other day. So there!"

"So how _do_ you exercise? It isn't something icky or obscure, is it, some dirty little secret I can blackmail you with?" Finn grinned, knowing he almost had his friend cracked, since he didn't seem too eager to be returning indoors and he wasn't walking away on him. In fact, just being in the open air after so many days since- since _then_, seemed to invigorate Rasmus more than any potion. Finn grinned in challenge.

"Either tell me, or I'll accidentally have a broom sweep you away into the ether," he said good naturedly.

"I dance," Rasmus shrugged.

"You… dance?" Finn intoned. "Like what, exotic?"

"You're really sick, you know that?" Rasmus made a face. "I dance as in, _normal_ dances. Like this."

His heels clacked on the cold slabs of the path towards the quidditch pitch as Rasmus danced a quick tap dancing sequence, feet flying, legs speedy, body gracefully and vigorously twirling and hopping around Finn for a few seconds before coming to a snazzy, flamboyant stop opposite his friend, hands out in simple superiority. His smug look implied he knew he was good. Finn laughed in surprise.

"Man, that was amazing!"

"It _was_ amazing," chirped a voice amidst a gaggle of green-clad quidditch players who were walking up the path to the pitch just then. Gaunt was their leader. "Amazing just how much you will insult Slytherin House with insignificant muggle gyrating mating dances, Snape. Your sort never cease to amaze us."

"Back off, Gaunt," Finn said, confident that if any wands were drawn, Rasmus would be doing all the dueling and he would just jinx when nobody was looking.

"Is that what you think?" Rasmus smiled dangerously. He had forgotten just how much dancing soothed him and empowered him. "Do you think muggle dances are beneath a wizard?"

Adeline Gaunt laughed pretentiously and prepared to answer in the affirmative, but she was given no chance. Rasmus walked up to her in two big strides, grabbed her arm and yank-twirled her into his grasp so firmly and smoothly that the girl just yelped. Holding her securely at the shoulderblade, eyes locked with her surprised ones, he slipped his leg between hers, his body suddenly pressing against hers. Then his leg snagged around her own, making her knee bent backwards and he dipped her until she nearly touched the ground. Rasmus held her there for a few fractions of a second before turning her back up to a standing position and releasing her with another twirl. Adeline was left gawking at Snape's son, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"A wizard who thinks dancing of _any_ kind is weak, will never know how to treat his woman. I'm glad you enjoyed that gyration, Miss Gaunt."

And he marched off through the Slytherin quidditch team, as they numbly made way for him to pass, followed by Finn who cat called at Adeline Gaunt until they were both out of sight.

"You _are_ an ass, you know," Rasmus whacked Finn playfully up the back of his head, but he was really thankful to his friend. Nothing was easier than before that afternoon, but he was now ready to face it- ready to talk to Nikos, ready to look at portrait frames, ready to do what it took to at least make all those deaths _count_.

***

_And that's that! Someone needed to let loose, apparently. Hah! I hope you enjoyed that little bit. There was a hint that Rasmus is a dancer earlier, but maybe you'd have dismissed it. Such visual scenes often look much better on screen, but try to imagine it anyway. Tell me what you think! (except that I played around while advancing the plot in obscure ways ;P) _

_**I corrected Poppy's name! Just shows who I was thinking about, plotting ahead while writing the scene.**_

_**Duj: **__Very true. The stiff upper lip and all. _

_**Sindie**__: Yes! Is it being long a bad thing? _

_**Hwyla**__: Thank you! Yes, there will be action until the end. Hope to hear from you again!_

_**Zoe Bright**__: I really am enjoying these thorough reviews of yours! Yes, Nikos followed the whole 'fighter culture' that wants heroes to go down fighting. Bit of a Spartan streak there. Unicorns did try to fight back, I bet she did get poked. *nod* Ha ha! Nikos is thick as a brick where it concerns love affairs, I'm afraid. Rasmus is far better at it, when he's interested. ;) _

_And as for Harry-as-Snape's-son, I actually like that yarn a lot when it's done right. I just didn't want to go for it because it was done so very often, and I wanted to see other interactions. I also wanted to add a bit of Mediterranean spark into the mix, which is why I didn't go down that path. But it is fun to read and write, I must say that. _


	32. Ploughing

_Hello hello! _

_Not sure if I will have the time to write this in time to upload today, but I will sure try :) _

_Onwards! Chapter 32. _

***

Nikos secured his Greek school of magic uniform's deep shingle-red waist-length cape on, fastening the clasp under his left collarbone- sign back home that he was a teacher, a graduate, and not a student. He assembled his papers for the class thoughtfully. Teaching students in the UK had not been part of his plan. Nor causing mayhem in a school. Or being distanced from his only family left by a few careless words. So many things had not gone according to plan, and yet somehow the situation was not desperate. _Worse than before, but not desperate._ Slytherin's portrait had said that the Key of Wind was hidden in Hogwarts, unlike the theories of everyone who was aware of the Keys' existence. Several Pythagoreans had searched the castle, with or without permission of its Head, and Nikos knew that several Isis cultists had as well- nobody had found the Key, and everyone had decided Slytherin had chosen another hiding spot.

Of course, the portrait could not tell them anything further, seeing as somehow this little bit of knowledge from the actual Salazar Slytherin was not transferred to the portrait.

Nikos sighed, wondering why it couldn't be as easy as just asking to be told for a change, and how it was possible for the portrait not to be imbued with this information, while it did retain every other relevant memory. He would try to find out why. In any case, he was in Hogwarts, part of the staff, and as such allowed- officially and unofficially- to go anywhere in the castle to look for what he wanted.

He straightened up, shaking himself from the thoughtful reticense. He could have actually planned it that way, it was _that_ perfect from the vantage point of strategy. Nikos combed his fingers through his dark flyaway hair, trademark of the Galanos line.

"Well then, let's follow your path," he said to nobody in particular and about turned, walking out the door.

It was Defense against the Dark Arts, fifth years Gryffindors and Slytherins. _Do these people fuel rivalries on purpose?_ It would have been Rasmus' class if Professor Bai had not admitted his godson in the advanced one- that would be tomorrow. Nikos breathed in and shook himself out of this incongruent nervousness. He was an experienced teacher already.

He entered the large class where the students were sitting in desks, murmuring among themselves. Like most of the senior classes, they weren't very numerous- a total of twenty students only, give or take. They all stopped as soon as he entered and marched assertively to the head of the class.

"Hello, class," he said in a loud voice. "I am Professor Nikos Galanos. I am here to help you complete your schooling despite the passing of your excellent Professor Bai," he began. Immediately, one hand shot up, of a strawberry blonde girl with Gryffindor colours. He tilted his head, and the girl took that as permission to speak.

"They say you are here because You Know Who is back. That Professor Bai was killed by him, and there was a fierce battle during curfew- and that you brought it all here in Hogwarts."

_Oh, dear. _

"And what's your name, miss?" he asked with a rather mirthless smile. The girl looked uncomfortable but answered nonetheless.

"Millie Blathbride, sir."

"I take it, Millie, that you speak the concerns of the entire student body, so in order to have you concentrate on what I have to teach you, I'll help you get these concerns out of the way now." Nikos glanced around the class. Everyone was looking at him with curiosity, but there was also fear and suspicion there.

"You Know Who is not back. Yes, there was a very fierce fight after curfew that did cost the life of your professor but it was not a battle. I am here because the dark wizards who tried to storm your school are wizards I fight." Nikos kept the passing of Poppy out of the list of casualties. To remind already frightened students of a second kill would not help just then.

"But it's not You Know Who? Just dark wizards?" Another boy in Gryffindor asked. The Slytherin part of the classroom was as yet silent.

"Yes," Nikos smiled, savouring the irony. "Just dark wizards. And I am here to teach you how to defend yourselves from them, exactly like Professor Bai was doing. So- let's get to it," he clapped his hands and the desks suddenly began shrinking. All the students jumped around with due exclamations and noises to avoid falling on their rumps on the floor.

Nikos watched them all for reflexes, then as soon as everyone was looking at him again with considerable more annoyance, he grinned innocently at the class, beginning to forget himself in one of the things he loved to do.

"Rarely will you ever find yourself needing to defend yourself sitting down primly at a desk," he said, arms folded in front of his chest. "And so, in my class there will rarely be any chance to sit down. Now, I suppose you all know I come from Greece, right?"

Several responses in the affirmative ensued. Nikos nodded as well.

"Yes, well, Greece is a rather small country with relatively few people in it. Unfortunately, or fortunately- depending on your point of view- we also happen to be inhabiting a peninsula that everyone has wanted since time immemorial. And so we really had to learn how to defend ourselves against enemies that customarily outnumber us."

"_Unlike the barbarians, we don't count the enemy numbers,_" spoke up a Slytherin boy for the first time.

"Quite right," Nikos encouraged. "Five points to Slytherin thanks to you, sir, for quoting old Aeschylus." The boy smirked at the Gryffindor standing next to him at that.

"That sounds rather idiotic to me, though," sneered another Slytherin, girl this time. "It spells certain suicide."

"Yes, it does, if you don't learn how to do it. So, my lads and ladies," Nikos took the bait to further advance his introduction to the logic of his class, "what you will be learning with me is how to have the luxury of going up against more, and being the one most likely to win- what Greeks have done best over the ages, inventing food delicacies aside."

The prospect along with the joke brought cheer to the Gryffindors and a gleam in the Slytherins that Nikos knew reflected thirsty interest. He pulled out his wand, and started signing his customary sigils while he talked:

"What I am doing now is going to help us learn and practice in real circumstances. However, lads and ladies, I shall not explain what sort of magic I am casting right now until you are ready to learn it." _In ten years, maybe._

From Nikos' wand the sigils glistened as if made of stardust, then seemed to explode like small fireworks and spread around the class and over every student until they seemed to fade. This happened three times with three different sigils, which started some of the boys fidgeting impatiently again. But then Nikos grinned.

"And now we are ready. While you are in this classroom, any offensive spell you cast will be altered to impact upon the target the desired effect only on the surface- that means you get to feel all the pain, but you don't get hurt. That will teach you to respect magic, but also go all out with the things I will be teaching you."

"What if someone casts the Avada Kedavra?" asked a Gryffindor, glancing at some of the Slytherins suspiciously. Nikos grinned.

"Then you pass out and have to be carried out of the classroom to be able to come to again."

"Wicked," murmured someone from one of the rows behind.

"Not yet," Nikos' smile now became belligerent, his eyes twinkling dangerously. "I don't know your strengths and weaknesses as fighters at all yet, and you don't know what I have in mind for you to be by the end of term, so why don't we all get acquainted by having a nice spar: Class vs. Teacher."

"You want all of us… to attack you, professor?" one of the Gryffindor girls seemed appalled at the idea. Nikos nodded.

"All at _once_?"

"Otherwise it would be just me showing off," he winked in challenge, then raised his wand. "Well, class? Landing a spell on me earns two points for your House. Land something significantly debilitating, and it earns you five. And to make it fair, I will only deduct points if I knock one of you out. Begin!"

***

Finn groaned, seeing Rasmus at the Slytherin breakfast table with the same pile of books he had pulled the youth the day before yesterday. Rasmus had gone right back to studying after that unexpected scene Saturday afternoon, and throughout Sunday with magic wards that prevented every classmate from approaching enough to interrupt him. He hadn't even bothered to follow the eruption of gossip that had ensued after Saturday afternoon, or any plans made by Slytherins to have Snape's son dance before an audience. It was the first time Finn was any sort of attention centre, because everyone kept asking him details, hoping that he actually knew more than them. Finn did not, of course, but he had made good on what he had anyway.

But without Rasmus himself fuelling the grapevine, it was not as fun as it could be- though Finn had heard many variations and interpretation of what it meant that _Snape's_ son had danced at all, let alone well enough to strike anyone dumb.

Like the anticlimactic persona Rasmus seemed to nurture demanded, he acted as if nothing had taken place with Adeline Gaunt and he had done nothing out of the ordinary. Finn rolled his eyes as he approached, watching Rasmus writing furiously again, noting things in Greek in a muggle looking notebook- Finn was certain Rasmus was doing that so that nobody would be able to read it.

"Man, what are you _doing_?" he whined as he plopped down next to him. "You could have every girl in Slytherin after yesterday, and you go right back to _studying_?"

"Don't be an idiot," snorted Rasmus. "Dancing is not for cheap thrills."

"Cheap thr- I don't believe you! If you don't dance for all the girl-tapping that can get you, then why bother?"

"First off, it's very easy for a trick to grow old, and just bursting into dance to impress a girl will make anyone look like a baboon seeking to attract a mate," snorted Rasmus and then shrugged. "I just didn't trust myself to pick a fight with Gaunt yesterday, and that was the easiest way to shut her up in a different manner and long enough to just clear out."

Finn's shoulders slouched in disappointment.

"Now everyone will truly believe the Slytherin quidditch team was hallucinating," he murmured. Rasmus grinned impishly.

"Well then, strike two," he said, closing one book to switch it for another, stealing a bite of toast in between.

"So what have you been studying, anyway? None of these books are for homework I'll bet, or somehow mysteriously blood magic has become part of the curriculum."

"It's something I need to talk about with my godfather," Rasmus said. "I did promise to talk to him when I am ready."

"And are you?" Finn tilted his head. Though he had seen Osiris, Finn could not bring himself to tell Rasmus that he had been there or tried to do anything. Finn could not really handle interaction that spilled beyond the mundane or the frivolous, and he had no way to predict how young Snape would react upon learning this particular little detail. If Finn had been certain it would yield information Rasmus was not giving with, then he'd venture it. But what if it alienated him? Finn could not have that for several reasons.

Rasmus shrugged again non-commitally, shrinking the pile of books to fit them in his book bag, and shutting the notebook closed.

"I think so," he said, grabbing a muffin as he left. Somehow, Finn felt too thoughtful and not buoyant enough to follow and be his usual self.

***

_And that's that! I hope you like it. Tomorrow we see what Harry has been doing, and with whom. (Not __**that**__.) Among some other things. _

_**Duj**__: Rasmus is imbued with Greek culture/outlook. That means that he can find it in him to shift his mood without actually feeling any better. :p _

_**Sindie:**__ Thank you very much! Yes, even storms have an eye of calm somewhere, don't they? Did anyone see that coming? He tapdances his way to his test rooms in the beginning chapters. But he also uses dancing in ways we will see later. _

_**Zoe Bright**__: Well, what do you think of Nikos as a teacher from this little intro of his? He is a sucker for teaching, he actually loves doing it. I bet Salazar is amused. :D And yes, a shot of whiskey or brandy will do that trick! I can attest to that as well. And yes, Snape's kid is a ballroom, folk and modern dancer. He actually is serious about dance and is planning to enroll into a muggle dance college when he graduates. Which used to scandalize his dad when he got wind of it (more of that soon) :p As for quidditch and being a jock or any kind of star, Rasmus doesn't like it. He prefers to lurk and pounce. Hee hee!_

_**Philomena:**__ A side story for Guiren Bai? Hmmm… why not? Maybe I will. Thanks for reading! _

_Oh, I nearly forgot! I have a deviantart account now, and I made a meme that is about OCs, for Rasmus. If you want to go take a look and learn a bit more about him before you see it in the story, go here (minus spaces) :/ignus-r. deviantart. com/ art / Harry-Potter-OC-meme- 153055451 _

_I think I'll start on some portraits next. _


	33. Purpose

_Hello hello! _

_Ugh, February and March tend to be pretty hectic months. So bear with me please if I update every other day… And try to see if I doodled something instead, those days. :p _

_So, Onwards! Chapter 33. _

_*** _

Harry smiled to himself as the spell was completed and worked, making the map of Great Britain suddenly animated like the screen of a radar.

"Yes!" he grinned and nodded to Hermione. "See? I can do it, too."

"You will get the same result as me," Hermione rolled her eyes. "The British Museum, and nothing more specific because we don't know how to ask for anything more precise."

"No, I won't," Harry said smugly, peering at the map as a tiny set of glowing footprints began tracing a route across the island. "Here they are! These guys are on the move."

Hermione and Ron clustered to all look at the floating map in front of Harry's wand, and stared as more and more little footsteps began appearing and converging in several areas. Hermione was speechless, Ron kept blinking at the map that seemed to keep adding pairs of footprints smearing routes across the paper.

"Just… how many are they?" Ron whispered. His left arm was still held immobile against his torso in a sling, and whether he would be gaining full use of it was for time to tell. Ron had not told Hermione or Harry as much, but he still had no feeling in two of his fingers, and the entire limb was numb, with the sensation of stinging needles burning through the flesh occasionally. "And who?"

Harry's silence was brooding.

"Look at where they all are: Stonehenge, Tintagel Castle, Buckland Abbey, Hermitage Castle… the traces all are headed or clustering to very specific sites, highly magical or high a great history for wizards," Hermione said, pointing at the locations with her finger.

"They are looking for the Key," Ron nodded.

"They must be Isis' cultists," Hermione muttered, eyes fixed on the skittering little footsteps.

"They are the Death Eaters we have been looking for," Harry said grimly, and swished his wand to end the spell. "Dolohov was one of them, and there is also Avery and others of the inner circle Voldemort had had."

"What?" Ron exclaimed. "How can you know that?"

"Thanks to Guiren, actually," Harry said, getting up to stare at the ancient Gryffindor common room's fireplace- the secluded place where they had brought Rasmus. "He had asked Susan Bones for a favour, and she brought him this information. He was dead by that time though, so Bones got me instead. Isis saved Dolohov from death, and through him she recruited everyone that survived Voldemort. Bones got me a list of Death Eaters that were sighted or presumed sighted, and that's how I could make the spell be more specific, by the way, Hermione. I asked for specific Death Eater names."

There was silence in the room, and Harry sighed with a small smile.

"Guiren knew how to dig for information. With Skeeter's files and Bones' list, we can very well throw a net and pull all those bastards in for Azkaban."

"And in the same time locate where Isis and Osiris are," Hermione added.

"Why would we want to locate Isis and Osiris _now_? They will eat us up for breakfast," Ron scoffed, rubbing his restrained arm without thinking. "They did when we were all whole."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione hissed and hugged Ron, snuggling against him. "I didn't mean it that way. I'm sure there's some way to ambush them."

Harry exhaled with force.

"I hate saying it, but Ron is right. We are too weak for their sort as we are. I was just thinking of nabbing those Death Eaters in Guiren's name."

"Does the Headmistress know about this?" Hermione watched Harry as he paced the room. He looked frustrated and haggard somehow, as if he wanted to do several things at once and knew he would not be able to do any.

"Not yet," Harry admitted. "I only got the information yesterday, and stayed up all night reading through it."

"And you only told us now, after what, nearly all morning classes are over?" Ron frowned, unable to not take it a little bit personally.

Harry winced to himself and sighed.

"Sorry Ron; I guess I wanted to have something worth the while to show you. Or… well… sorry- I got the papers in my hand and just wanted to read them. I wasn't thinking."

"Clearly, something you undeniably excel at," came a sneer from the wall making the Golden trio jump. Severus Snape was standing in front of the large Round Table, ignoring the annoyed looks of the several knights he was forcing to crowd on other sides of the painting.

"Merlin, you are even worse of a menace as a drawing," Ron blurted out, making the potions master smile in superiority. He otherwise ignored the redhead and rested his eyes on Harry.

"Well then, Potter. Now that we have established you have perfected the art of not thinking _and_ gawking, let us see if you have become any better at following simple instructions."

Harry rolled his eyes and glared.

"Honestly, professor, I can pay attention without being goaded half the time. What do you want to tell me?"

"You have an excellent way to gain leverage against Isis and Osiris, but it requires coolness and planning- not Gryffindor qualities, I'm afraid. What you should do is go with it to the Headmistress, and then set yourself to actually learning some magic amidst all the rule breaking and impetuousness."

"The Headmistress is also Gryffindor, professor," Hermione couldn't help pointing out with a rather cheeky smile.

Severus scoffed.

"Miss Granger, the Headmistress is too old to be Gryffindor all the time."

Harry made an effort to focus on the actual advice he was being given, and not on the baiting.

"What sort of magic do you want me to learn, professor?"

"Whatever Galanos has to teach you would be encouraging," Severus said with a bit of reluctance. "Do not dare miss a single of his classes, whether you like it or not. _If_ of course, you want to confront Isis without having others pave the way for you like _I_ had to do."

Whatever ire had been swelling in Harry dispersed at the reminder that he actually owed Snape his life- and had not once acknowledged it to the living specimen- and even Ron looked to the side and kept his silence. Therefore, only Hermione was the one who said seriously:

"We will do what you are suggesting, professor. Thank you."

***

After his morning class, Ancient Runes, Rasmus headed towards the DADA classroom to seek out his godfather. His heart beat strongly against his chest, and he kept chewing on the inside of his lower lip. He felt liable to Nikos, that he had let him down by doing things wrongly, below standard- by messing up what had already been achieved. So he had to go back to Nikos to reconcile with something that could set things straight, something to counterbalance his blunder.

It hadn't been easy to find, and Rasmus wasn't certain if he had found anything anyway, that could at all make it up for allowing Osiris to have his blood for a second time. He sighed, his hand tightening around the book he was holding at his side. Lost in his thoughts, he ignored the glances and whispers of groups of girls and boys as he walked past them, even when little snippets of dialogue reached his ears, like what people said about Greeks and love, or even characterizations like _butterfly boy_ from the vitriol camps.

"Hey, Snape! Dance the hula for us!"

Rasmus arched an eyebrow at the three who were blocking his way. One he knew- it was a seventh year Slytherin by the name of Podger, who had a reputation for being curse happy. The other two were from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and Rasmus didn't really care to learn names of anyone outside his House that he didn't need to interact with.

"Why on earth would I dance an intricate Charms Saltation to invoke protection of the Earth and Flora for you, when you clearly don't need to be protected by anything than your own selves?" he rattled off the jibber jabber with a poker face, only his eyes lighting in slight amusement.

The three students glanced between themselves awkwardly, and Rasmus moved in for the punchline. He leaned forward with a condenscending, pretentious smile.

"Oh! You all thought the hula was a _muggle_ dance for _sissies_, didn't you? Some dances are actually intricate charms invocations- especially those that impressed the _muggles_."

As he was talking in a smooth, silky voice dripping in irony, Rasmus walked through the group and shot the Ravenclaw a disdainful glance. "I'd expect someone wearing the blue and silver to at least be able to _deduct_ as much. Now you won't know if when you dance to the Weird Sisters next time, you won't accidentally invoke lightning to blast you off your pants."

The students that had gathered up to watch laughed, and Rasmus hurried away before the three could react and stop him, robes billowing, evading yet one more altercation without having to draw his wand.

Reaching the corridor where the DADA class was, he saw classmates filing away numbly, limping and nursing arms and legs that looked completely healthy, muttering to themselves exhaustedly.

"Snape, your godfather is a _tyrant_!" growled a Slytherin girl called Matilda as her eyes fell on him. She was leaning against Finn, who looked delighted to be of service, though shaken and slightly disoriented himself. Rasmus couldn't help grinning.

"He can be, that's for sure," he nodded. As Finn winked at Rasmus to gloat about being around a girl, the two began waddling past. Rasmus said to them:

"Eating chocolate will help you get over the shakes of the spar. Oh, and a hot bath will complete the job."

"Excellent!" Finn told Matilda suggestively. "Why don't we go share some?"

"In your dreams, Finn," the Slytherin girl shoved him away, but nearly toppled in the process, allowing Finn to resume holding her.

Rasmus chuckled to himself and walked in the classroom. Nikos was tidying it with quick wandwork, himself looking tired but satisfied.

"Hello," Rasmus called timidly to attract his attention.

"Hey," Nikos smiled, immediately perking up. It looked to Rasmus as if his shoulders weren't weighed as much. "Isn't your class with me not until tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Rasmus nodded a little awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as he shoved his hand in his pocket. "Are you going to put us through your duel spars, too? You've already traumatized the fifth years."

"Absolutely," Nikos grinned. "It should prove especially interesting with Harry Potter and his friends in the class, too. I already know _your_ mettle."

"Mmm," Rasmus made a vague sound, and a pregnant and tense silence ensued for a moment.

_Come on, out with it!_

"Look… uh… I don't know your schedule now, but… but I did say I … I'd come on my own when I'd be ready to… to talk about what happened… you know… that caused the deaths." Rasmus was looking at the edge of Nikos' desk with remarkable interest, and all mirth had washed away from his face like watercolour under water. It made Nikos' heart constrict.

"I have no other class until the first years in two hours," he said softly. "We do need to talk."

Rasmus looked up a little, and Nikos smiled at him. He conjured up a slab of chocolate and broke off a piece.

"Here," he said, and draped one arm around his godson, leading him to sit down with him in one of the front desks. "Have this, and while you are savouring it, listen to what I have to say first."

***

_And that's that! I hope you liked it. __I think that Harry, Ron and Hermione would be a little awkward between themselves right now- obviously they haven't __**really**__ talked out what happened with Osiris, and Hermione how she felt about her behavior when she left Harry alone to care for Ron, that Ron is actually still injured, and all that. That will surface really soon though- it's brewing under the surface. _

_Also, since this is pretty much wizard high school, I doubt nobody would think to use the fact that Rasmus dances against him. More of that will come, too.;) _

_Oh! And I have drawn a portrait (of sorts) of Nikos creating a Sigil. Go to my DA account to see it! (it's now in my author's profile for a quick click). He probably is nothing like you picture him in your head… _

_**Zoe Bright**__: I sent you a PM, don't know if you got it. Finn has his own agenda of sorts, and his own skeletons in his closet. There's a reason he's in Slytherin and not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. ;) Snape was absolutely __**appalled **__to hear his son announce 'I wanna be a dancer when I grow up!' He probably pictured him in a tutu for a second. :D But then he got to watch, and he liked what he saw (Aello sent him a strategically extremely manly dance that Rasmus performed before she ventured to have him see anything else!) _

_**Sindie:**__ We definitely will see more of Snape soon. And at some point, that is all we will be seeing- him and Salazar. (Maybe I shouldn't have said that) _

_**Everyone who fave'd or put this story on alert:**__ Thank you! Hope I get to hear from you at some point or other ;) _


	34. Comfort

_Hello hello! _

_I have a question for you. We are going through the second part of this story. In the third part (this could be a sequel or just more chapters on this one, I'll see) there will be several things Rasmus or Nikos or some other people will be referring to that are distinctly cultural. Do you want me to post samples of dances or pictures and the like so you can see with your own eyes what they are referring to, or would you find that tiring, to find links at the bottom of the chapters all the time? _

_While you are considering it, Onwards! Chapter 34. _

_***_

Rasmus took the piece of chocolate but didn't actually eat it, waiting for Nikos' words not unlike someone who is expecting the verdict of right punishment or atonement. Nikos sighed, sitting back next to him in the student desk.

"You and me, we've already been through our share of stuff, haven't we, bud?" he began, speaking softly in Greek. Rasmus managed a small lopsided ghost of a smile as he nodded once, looking at the chocolate piece in his hands.

"Yeah. And you've always come through for me," he said softly. "More than mum or _him_."

"And so have you," Nikos replied, making a mental note not to leave the way Rasmus referred to his parents undiscussed. "And you did so back in the infirmary, as well."

"No," Rasmus said, a vicious edge of self-loathing in his voice. "No, I didn't. I thought everything over very well, godfather. I led Osiris to you. He was seeking me out. If I had gone to hide like father had said, it wouldn't have happened. I don't know about Professor Bai, but for sure Madame Pomfrey would still be alive. It's my fault she's dead. And so would have been the case for Potter and Weasley and Granger- and you too, if you hadn't woken up somehow."

Nikos bit his lip, direly wishing for Aello. She was so much better than him at words! _Whatever you do, don't lie to make him feel better. It will only be much worse in the long run._ He sighed.

"Eat that," he muttered. "And please, hear me out before you go on any further."

Rasmus put the chocolate in his mouth, blinking a couple of times more than he should, cursing that he felt the horrible burning dampness threaten to break through his eyelashes again. _Listen to what Nikos is saying_, Rasmus admonished himself harshly.

"You are very brave, to dare look at your actions the way you do, Rasmus- but like Severus, and like me sometimes, you tend to seek guilt and blame that is not yours, or is not completely yours. And you are not as keen to see your victories. So I will do it for you, like your mother would do it for both of us before," Nikos smiled softly and stroked Rasmus' hair with one fleeting gesture of affection before continuing. "It is possible that the fact you didn't go to hide drew Osiris to you faster- you let him have easier access to you. However-" he rushed to say as his godson's shoulders slumped in defeat, "he was drawn to you anyway, and there was no way he wouldn't find you, even if he had to blast his way to you through every wall in his castle. Who can say that if Osiris did cause that sort of rucus, he wouldn't blast through student dormitories and kill kids in his way, or draw more professors to face him and kill them, too?"

Rasmus raised his eyes at Nikos, who nodded encouragingly.

"I know it is harsh, but maybe the fact that you came to where I was, ensured the lowest body count possible, considering what Osiris is, and that he had Isis with him."

Rasmus swallowed, frowning to himself as he mulled that over in his head. Nikos didn't give him the time to reply and continued on, breaking off another chocolate piece from the slab.

"Osiris also would want to seek revenge on me and kill me, for destroying his initial blood reservoir when I sought them out through Augury. At the state I was, I wouldn't stand a chance against him. Until I woke, you defended me against one of the strongest wizards there are out there, Rasmus. You saved my life back there."

Rasmus chuckled a little shakily, sadness still reverberating in it.

"You make it sound like I was something great," he said. "I wasn't. He got my blood, and there was nothing I could do about it."

"He used Knot Spells, bud," Nikos said quietly. "That's some pretty potent magic to break. Some of them are not breakable at all. And you are here, breathing and talking to me- so he didn't get all he would have liked."

"Enough to grant him the wizarding blood allurement he needed to Anchor himself to the living once more," Rasmus shook his head.

Nikos eyed Rasmus curiously.

"Blood Allurement? Where did you hear that term?"

"I studied," Rasmus sat up a little more energetically and reached into his book bag. "I wanted to make up for my mess, and I think I found the way-"

"Rasmus Octavian."

Rasmus stopped and blinked up a little in surprise. It was very rare that anyone called him by both his names. He met Nikos' amber eyes and this time kept the lock of stares.

"The only way for you to make a mess about this, is to continue thinking you messed up. Or do you think I don't know why you came to the infirmary? It is not a mess-up to want to protect those you love. And of that you did a job full aurors would envy. And this is something that _I_ am telling you- and you know how I don't mince meat when it comes to assessing competence."

Rasmus sighed and ran his hand through his hair, uncomfortable at the praise and overwhelmed with every other emotion in his heart.

"It's just… I guess… I wish nobody had died."

"Everyone does- but there was nothing more you could have done than what you did. Considering the circumstances, you did the best anyone would do."

"Mmmh," Rasmus shrugged one shoulder in a non-committal gesture.

"I am inclined to agree; the Potter boy would have gone rushing head on to duel Osiris, and gotten himself into an early grave- if there had been enough of him left for a grave, of course," came Severus' voice from the side wall, in a narrow portrait frame that was currently empty.

Rasmus snorted.

"Oh, _now_ you'll seek me out. You have been avoiding me like the plague all this week!"

"And I must say, Severus, that your Greek has improved drastically," Nikos grinned.

"My Greek has always been fluent," Snape snorted. "As well as Latin and Sanskrit and French."

"Your syntax had been the fodder for jokes to last us for the whole 80s decade," Nikos smirked.

"Shut it, Galanos," snarled Severus, shaking his fist at the auguror. "I am here to talk to _my son_. Rasmus- I have not been avoiding you. I thought you were appreciating the space I was giving you."

Rasmus rolled his eyes.

"Well, I did _appreciate_ it- lots and lots, feeling you … well, you probably _are_ mad I didn't go to hide with the house elf like you wanted me to."

Severus arched an eyebrow.

"It is true that I am not pleased," he began, then paused and continued in English, "but I suppose that I am not displeased, either. I _would_ be displeased if you had rushed off to fight instead of salvage."

Rasmus didn't reply, and sighed. Nikos smiled to himself and offered Rasmus another piece, which the youth took and ate much more easily than before.

"Thank you," Rasmus said, but then also side glanced at Snape's portrait.

"Carry on," Severus said, and left swiftly leaving the portrait empty- apparently its original inhabitant was busy elsewhere, too.

Nikos got up and gestured for Rasmus to follow suit.

"Let's have you tell me, then, what it is you studied to know about Blood Allurement."

"Actually I have Charms class soon," Rasmus said with a bit of chagrin. "But here is everything, I made sort of a set of notes on what I found." He pushed his muggle notebook in Nikos' hands. "Uh, read it and tell me what you think, okay?"

"All right," Nikos nodded. "I'll study it myself, and we'll talk about this tomorrow, after our class together."

He watched as his godson rushed off ahead with a pensive look.

_Aello, did I manage to convince him he's done well even a little bit?_

Nikos wasn't at all certain.

***

Erna Frideswide cussed under her breath as she aggressively crossed out the latest name in the list for school nurses. She had been so used to Poppy and her excellence, that she was simply appalled at what passed for adequate education for school medics these days. She would tell Minerva to simply amend the list by asking for a full healer, just to get some interesting applications.

However, it meant she still was the one manning the infirmary while also keeping her class workload. It was not easy, even though she did work in shifts interchanging with Galanos for the time being. Kids would pop up every moment of the hour with serious or not so serious complaints- and some with simply annoying prankster item effects on them. It had been amusing for the first day or so, but afterwards, when she couldn't just curl up in front of her fireplace with a nice bloody mary and some soft music, she felt her patience thinning critically. _I signed up to teach exactly because I didn't want to be in emergency ward! _

She huffed and decided she'd have that bloody mary anyway when the time came, even if it had to be in the infirmary itself, no matter how sacrilegious Poppy would have found it. But her thoughts dispersed when she entered the large room and saw the tall red-haired young man standing in front of the mirror, back to her.

She rushed forward anxiously.

"Stop! What are you _doing_?"

Ron winced from trying to move his wounded arm and raising it higher than the level of his heart. As Frideswide cried out, so did he at the white hot pain, letting out a yell of pain and frustration, knees buckling under it. Erna just managed to catch him and help him to a bed.

Quickly she cast a numbing charm, and Ron got his breath back- but as he exhaled, he also began to sob.

"Bloody hell," he whispered in frustration as he sat helplessly for Frideswide to tend to him. "Bloody _hell_!"

Normally, Erna wasn't one to do pep talks, but her Healer's instinct told her it would be a mistake not to try a bit with Weasley.

"What were you thinking, Mr. Weasley? You are not 12 years old, are you? Your arm isn't ready for full mobility yet."

"And it never will be," Ron groused, violently wiping his eyes with the back of his good hand. "I am a bloody cripple when Hermione and Harry will need me!"

"Nonesense," Frideswide said brusquely as she was kneading Ron's shoulder. "Your arm will mend if you don't go out of your way to injure it further."

"No, it won't," Ron sighed, wincing a little as the numbing charm began to fade. "It's been so many days and I still can't do anything with it."

Erna tutted as she pressed the tip of her wand against Ron's shoulder joint and muttered the appropriate charm.

"My, how it is obvious you are wizarding. Muggle wounded wait for months and months or even years to get their full recovery. You're sniffling because you may need to wait for a month at most."

"What?" Ron frowned hopefully.

Erna sighed deeply and shook her head, charming the elastic bandages under the boy's shirt and around his arm to tighten again appropriately before slipping the sling on again.

"Mr. Weasley," she said as she stood back and pushed up her glasses, "Your shoulderblade was nearly blown out of your back along with a good part of muscle. Don't you think that your body is entitled to some slack to grow you some more for that nice shoulderblade Professor Galanos fixed back in place after making it good as new?"

Ron swallowed and looked to the side.

"Guess so…"

"Good," she nodded decidedly and called Ron's potion to her. "Drink this, and don't try to push yourself again until I tell you it is ok to do so."

Ron got up numbly after obeying, slowly going towards the exit while Erna watched._ Tell him something more,_ her self pushed frantically, and she raced for something, anything:

"Mr. Weasley!"

Ron stopped and turned. Erna smiled thinly.

"No matter what happens, your other arm is strong, healthy and working."

Ron looked at her incredulously, as if she had grown two heads.

"Uh… thank you, I guess, professor."

Frideswide winced internally and mentally kicked herself. _Nice, Erna, nice. Really smooth! _

***

_And that's that! _

_Tomorrow we get to see what is going to be done with the Death Eaters and Isis/Osiris, with finding the Key of Wind and everything that will start us on the way to resolution ;) _

_**Zoe Bright**__: I am so happy you liked the chapter! Yes, I did mean *the* Round Table. Severus probably shoved Galahad into Lancelot to make room for himself in that crowded painting XD And yes, when pushed or troubled, Rasmus does use Snape defense to keep aggressors at bay. He finds it works best. But yes, it is rather sad that he feels he needs to make up to be able to talk. Aello and her personality will come through throughout the story, but if you are talking about flashbacks, it's questionable. But of course, we don't know what lies in store until the very end… ;) _

_**Iloveshimmer**__: Thanks for the review! And yes, Rasmus is a Snape, just as he is a Galanos ;) _

_**Sindie**__: Thanks! Like I said, as we go on deeper in the story, we will be seeing him more and more, especially as the stakes go higher._

_Till tomorrow! Don't forget to tell me what you'd answer to my question in the beginning. _


	35. Agitation

_Hello, hello! _

_I am actually quite tired today, so if this is short, forgive me. Next chapter will be longer. _

_Onwards! Chapter 35._

_*** _

Minerva paced in her office, waiting for the not-so-pleasant floo call. She knew she shouldn't be complaining- it could have been much worse without the information Harry and Hermione had come to her with. It was odd that she didn't see the youngest Weasley boy with them. Ron had refused to go home to the coddling of his mother and any sibling there to recuperate just so he could be 'of use' as he had put it. Hermione had numbly informed her Weasley had gone to the infirmary for his daily treatment.

Though Minerva was not Head of Gryffindor any longer, she couldn't stop acting as one, seeing that Granger was also not faring well and Potter was distant, focused only when it was about fighting against Isis and Osiris.

"You three will stay put in this castle for now," Minerva had ordered them after about an hour or two of debriefing and ruminations. "We need to locate the Key, and I trust you three to be part of this search- and put all that castle knowledge you acquired over your school days roaming to good use while aiding Professor Galanos… and _only_ then."

Hermione had blushed a little at that, Harry had simply nodded, then gone on to ask quite impetuously:

"And what will you do about the Death Eaters and everyone else of Isis' homing in?"

"That will be taken care of in such a manner that allows our adversary the least possible force, at least in Britain, Mr. Potter. Now; you have been assigned a specific task that is far more important than the one others outside of Hogwarts can do. I trust that all of you have matured enough to act as you should and not jeopardize situations just because you are impatient."

The last few words were uttered by severity that the Headmistress rarely employed, and Harry seemed to flinch while Hermione's shoulders hunched. Minerva tried to ease it with:

"I do promise you that you will be sufficiently and timely informed of the developments. You are adults now, all three of you already twenty or so; I am looking forward to treating you as such. Please help me in not giving me cause to revert to adolescent treatment."

"Yes, Headmistress," Hermione said, but Harry's eyes flashed.

"Timely briefing, Headmistress?" he pressed, painfully trying not to come across as too audacious or threatening with his unsaid words. Minerva straightened up, frowning in disapproval.

"Of course timely, Mr. Potter. Headmasters _do_ learn from the mistakes of their predecessors, you know. Now- you are adults, but you are also students. Go to your classes."

The conversation rolled around in her mind now as she was waiting, and she was pulled out of her thoughts only by a small sigh by Albus in his portrait, telling Minerva in warning:

"Here she comes!"

Indeed, Isa Dawlish burst through the floo in a slight puff of fireplace ash, and went on to burst into shouting without so much as saying good day:

"This entire situation is _unacceptable_, Headmistress! The _gall_ to have me keep the lid on crimes that could have cost student lives and _did_ cost the lives of two of your staff, not to mention those of your professors injured! I could have you indicted on far less than that! And not only that, while you were incapacitated, I was forced to deal with your deputy who talked a whole big deal without telling me _anything_! Where is that Galanos fellow now, to try and talk all of you out of trouble?"

Minerva had conjured a cup of tea, watching the minister of magic's tirade with a raised eyebrow. The moment Dawlish stopped to breathe, she offered the cup.

"Tea, Minister?"

"Tea? _Tea?_" Dawlish looked on the verge of suffering a conniption. Minerva nodded.

"I expect some tea will soothe you enough to listen to what I have to tell you- and be able to handle the information lying herein," she added, patting a bound file on her desk softly with her free hand. "I guarantee it will compensate you for all your concerns."

"Have the tea, Isa," encouraged Dumbledore from his portrait. "It's of the finest Darjeeling- it makes me wish I could sample it."

Eyeing the bound file, Isa clenched her teeth and accepted the cup, sitting down on the armchair's edge. Minerva sat behind her office and leaned forward.

"Your cooperation ensured that we now know not only who is responsible for Rita Skeeter's death, but also the raid into Hogwarts-"

"_Raid_? I was told it was a magic accident!" Dawlish cried out. Minerva sighed.

"Yes, yes, you were told that along with everyone else, to prevent a panic. Now that I not only have a clear picture of the enemy to public safety and peace, but also some viable avenues as to how to deal with them, it was my _first_ priority to inform you, Minister, so that you can take action in a decisive, most efficient manner."

The hint that as Minister she could be looking at a great success that would solidify her in her position and shut the mouths of some of her enemies at least for some time was not lost on Isa. After all, she had been Slytherin herself and McGonagall's hinting was not too subtle. She sniffed and sipped her tea- it truly was good Darjeeling.

"Show me, then, Headmistress," she said. "But this time it had better come with solid evidence and a good lever against those criminals."

McGonagall forced herself not to grin but rather smile primly as she knit her hands on her desk.

"I assure you, Minister, that it very much does," she said and begun.

***

Nikos never attended the meals in the Great Hall- he just didn't quite feel part of Hogwarts staff, and he wanted Bai's chair to be his for a while longer, and thus stay empty. People were not items to be immediately replaced like a faulty or expired spare part- their absence from the cosmos confined in the three dimensions was something to be respected, and their passing honoured if they were worthy. And though Nikos barely knew Professor Bai, he could tell the man was worth the observance. So when Septima met him in the teacher's lounge, he just declined her offer to go with her to breakfast, and just kept his eyes on Rasmus' notebook.

Septima sighed, then bit her lip and decided it would be bad method in the end to simply simmer in her own pot trying to figure the man out. Nikos was very friendly one day and very distant another, he could be even flirty with her and then just seem to avoid her or keep her at a distance. Professor Vector had gone a long time being single, and it would be a joke on her if she tried to stop the streak to have something that was unrequited. One Head of Slytherin had already done that, and it hadn't been at all pretty. So she approached and stood before Nikos' armchair where he was deep into Rasmus' text on blood bonds, patiently waiting.

It took Nikos a good five seconds to realize that Septima was staring down at him, and he looked up quickly, blinking owlishly at her.

"Oh! Septima."

"Yes, that is my name," Septima nodded, hands on hips. Nikos seemed to be ready to dodge a blow.

"Uh, am I in trouble?" he asked almost timidly, then added, "I promise I'm very sorry, whatever it is."

Septima sighed and looked perturbed.

"I suppose you aren't in any official trouble," she waved off an imaginary fly, "but it is generally considered rude to turn down polite invitations more than once- or is that okay in Greece?"

Nikos stared at her for a second, then his expression eased in a warm smile that nearly unhinged all of Septima's stance- nearly.

"No, it is definitely considered rude in Greece, too- especially when such lovely a lady offers," he nodded. "But I really feel it isn't time for me yet to go there, sit at that table and have students throw bread balls at me when I'm not looking."

Septima chuckled.

"The high table is charmed not to let any sort of student projectile reach us. I think it is a practice that has held for some three or four decades at least."

"Really, though," Nikos insisted, "I don't much like people watching me eat- or at least people I don't already feel at ease with. I also need to finish studying this," he tapped at the notebook, "or my godson will think I'm indirectly telling him he is unworthy."

Septima wasn't certain if Nikos was avoiding her in a rather gallant manner, but she was beginning to feel very silly and adolescent, and she didn't appreciate that. But then, Nikos simply stood and offered her the chair next to his.

"However, unless you really want to go eat at the great hall, you're more than welcome to share breakfast with me here- and maybe we can discuss some issues that my godson seems to raise with this rather intense and comprehensive book review he's done on blood bonds."

It was all Septima could do to accept with dignity- and frustration, because she still could not specify whether Nikos Galanos was at all interested in her, or he was just being his casual, open, easy-going and – Septima inwardly sighed- alluring self.

_Focus on the Arithmancy. And work your way to his attentions that way._

But even thinking like some love-starved deranged Jane Austen character disgusted her.

"On second thought, Nikos, I think I must attend. With everything that has happened lately, it may not be the best message to have yet another chair left empty," she said quickly and left with brusque steps before the newest professor in Hogwarts could piece together a reply.

Nikos frowned to himself, genuinely puzzled.

"What'd I do?" he asked a portrait right next to his chair.

"I'm the worst choice to ask on love issues," the image of Oberon snorted. "Last time I tried, I got the ass' head- and don't you believe the prettified stories."

"Love issues?" Nikos arched an eyebrow. He wasn't loveable- he was nearly always overworked, disheveled and obsessed with Augury. Women back home never missed a chance to inform him of the fact. He smirked. "Nah," he grinned to himself and turned back to Rasmus' essay, noting with his own rather cramped and spidery hand on the margins.

_Trust Rasmus to go straight for the risky and deadly._ _We need to tone down the drama in our family, Aello._

***

_And that's that! Tomorrow we got the DADA lesson with Harry and co and Rasmus, then maybe some Ministry affairs and dark activity before we move on to a certain scene that will be extremely important for everyone- and everything. _

_**Hawkswench**__: thank you! I hope you keep enjoying. _

_**Zoe Bright**__: Nikos really does try, though he is quite inexperienced in some areas, as experienced and potent as he is in others. We get to see what happens with the allurement tomorrow (most likely) and well, Rasmus does have a Snape streak when it comes to atonement… Hermione will get her own –sorta- pep talk soon. Frideswide is a tomboy at heart, and her idea of 'pep talk' is a punch along with 'tough it out, big guy!' But she has realized that doesn't really help patients… :D _

_**Sindie**__:I know a lot about lots of cultures, but certainly Greek is the one that lives and breathes in me :) That's great! I will then be posting links when applicable. The baddies appear soon, but since they are MY sort of baddies, they will cause mayhem from moment one, and thus I'm trying to cut the characters a bit of slack. Maybe. A little. _


	36. Initiative

_Hello, hello!_

_Did you miss me? I certainly did go under with a hectic week, didn't have time for anything else but work. But I have stolen a couple of hours now, and I'll try my best to crank out this chapter now. _

_Onwards! Chapter 36._

***

Minister Isa Dawlish couldn't be happier with the first reports that started coming in after mobilizing selected Auror units in lightning quick attacks in areas so well specified and pinpointed that the last squanders of the Death Eaters were completely taken aback. The fights and duels that had taken place had been furious, but only three in a total of eight Law Enforcement raids died in the fray. Indeed, McGonagall's Auguror had done such a splendid job Minister Dawlish was beginning to think a little better of the whole idea of using such perilous types of Divination and Arithmancy.

She hummed a little tune as she signed off the list of induction papers to have the criminals escorted to Azkaban. She had already authorized for an area to be made suitable for trials on-island for especially dangerous criminals, and thus signed for the transit papers and fees of the Wizengamot members that would travel there to give those vermin their law-guaranteed trial. She then called in her secretary.

"Wheyne, schedule an appointment for me with the press," she said, lifting her chin a little in triumph. "We must announce that the Death Eaters have finally all been indicted or accounted for as deceased."

"Yes'm," the secretary half bowed out of the door, and for a moment, Isa leaned back in her swivel chair and smiled at the ceiling, then glanced at the side, where some portraits were hanging. They were utility ones, always changing and often empty: one was for Hogwarts headmasters' portraits, and originally of the headmaster around the time the ministry was founded, another was for the Order of Merlin portraits, and originally of Pollux Black, and thus the background was that of mountains of golden coins.

Isa sighed and glanced at the file McGonagall had given her, and which was going to found her securely in her position until she died, if she played her PR cards the right way. Just as Minerva had said, all the battles with the Death Eaters were victorious. But what about Isis and Osiris? It was a given that they would react to losing their initial forces with the Ministry activity. The Headmistress hadn't quite described what a prime wizard was, except that they were potent. But hadn't Voldemort been potent as well? Isa didn't want another vendetta and looming of darkness over Britain at least, and certainly not during her administration.

The Auguror's plan had worked like a charm- Isa chuckled at her own pun- up to now. Why wouldn't it be the same with the pockets of non-Death Eater cultists that were up north? The Headmistress had said the Auguror had been adamant not to venture to attack or raid the northern area castles and sites that had been marked upon the map as dangerous. But why not? Why not continue while you're on a roll, and take the house?

The Minister sat up on her desk and looked at the marked map of England again with interest. There were some Death Eaters- the public thinking them already dead, so no false announcements there- that were supposedly very near this Isis and Osiris. Why not go pick them up, using the same plans and strategy? Isa grinned to herself.

"Whatever it is you are thinking, it is a bad idea," came a voice from the portrait. Isa looked up and saw Pollux Black in his lush fur robes. She frowned.

"You haven't spoken in all my time here, and you choose to do it by telling me not to do something?" she groused acerbically. "I preferred you mute."

"And I preferred the position of minister free of women," Pollux snapped back, "but it would be idiotic to have you lead the ministry into a shambles."

"And what would you know, anyway? I am the minister who eradicated the last of the Death Eaters," Isa straightened up, pointing to her chest.

"Thus I have so far not deigned to speak to you," drawled the man. "But now you are about to throw everything you earned away by going against the very thing that gave you that victory."

"I didn't ask for your advice, Black," Isa snapped at the portrait, jabbing her quill at it. "If it were up to me, I'd never concede to having a Black in my office."

Pollux sneered, but didn't reply further, and Isa nodded aggressively, satisfied to have shut the insufferable portrait up. Then, she busily began jotting down notes for the next debriefing that would send her aurors to strike at the heart of this infection that was festering in the north. _I will clean England up of all darkness- that's how they will remember me._

***

When Nikos walked to his classroom, Rasmus was already there, waiting for him, rather earlier than was required. The boy was looking at him approach with worried, hopeful eyes. Nikos did his best to keep a straight face. He had mixed feelings with what he had read- Rasmus' work had been brilliant, in-depth and surprisingly insightful. He definitely had his mother's gift for groundbreaking work. But it also had alarmed him deeply, because of the reckless urge for penance more than anything else. _I should have held my mouth when I had to. This is all my fault._

"Well, godfather? Did you read it?" Rasmus asked in Greek. Nikos nodded.

"Yes, I did. We will talk about it after class."

Rasmus' eyes searched Nikos' face for a moment, then cringed.

"It's all hogwash, isn't it? I did double check my sources, and made sure I was-"

"Roc," Nikos cut the boy off with the special name he had for him. Rasmus blinked once.

Nikos smiled, and looked for a moment to the side to notice Hermione walking in. He returned his gaze to Rasmus.

"Like I said, we'll talk about it after class."

Rasmus breathed in and nodded, a small muscle clenching along with his teeth, and backstepped.

Nikos nodded his approval and turned to Hermione.

"Hello," he said amiably. "You seem to be early today, ne?"

"Oh," Hermione said, and chuckled a little nervously. "Harry's just outside I bet; trying to convince Ron to come inside."

"Convince him to come inside? I don't suppose I've become so fear-inspiring already, have I?" Nikos grinned, hands in his pant pockets, his uniform's cape thrown mostly back over his shoulders.

Hermione was looking miserable.

"Well… he feels he is too injured to come to class, professor, even to watch."

Nikos arched an eyebrow. He didn't quite know the golden trio, but from each and every account he had had of them, be it from Snape's ranting or McGonagall's information, he knew they were inseparable, and that Granger and Weasley were an item of sorts.

"Hmmm… why don't I go check while the others arrive, eh?" he said and walked out in a quick pace he managed to make non-chalant.

He was right in time to see Harry Potter's back slightly crouched in an unmistakable 'hold-anger-in' bracing, fists at the side, as Ron Weasley was walking away, also, apparently, in a huff. _Teen spats. Marvellous,_ Nikos thought, despite the fact he knew the particular students were past their teenage years- but Nikos believed that teenage years could spill over in the twenties… and often even further.

"Ron Weasley! I believe you missed the classroom door. We're over here!" he said cheerfully, gesturing for the redhead to come over in more excitement than was necessary.

Harry turned so sharply to face him, Nikos thought his head would snap by the force of inertia.

"Professor!"

"Yes, yes, that's me now," Nikos grinned and nodded towards the classroom. "Why don't you go in and console Hermione?"

"Why does she need to be consoled?" Ron groused as he dragged his feet towards them. His arm was still tightly strapped to his torso. "I am the invalid here."

"Ah, let's just all go in, shall we?" Nikos pushed both young men in, before Harry burst with a heated response to Ron's commentary.

Hermione strode over to ask Rasmus a question. Rasmus began to answer, clearly taken aback at the sudden address. Harry seemed to be fuming and Ron was flustered and morose. Nikos kept his smile, and welcomed the rest of the class inside, as the Slytherins and Gryffindors filed in. Nearly all of them looked to have gotten every single detail of how he ran his classes from his previous ones. _Perfect._

"Welcome," he said seriously and waved his wand for the door to shut, and this his special sigils to be activated for class again, and make all spells physically harmless. "I had been looking forward to teaching you," he looked at the seniors standing at as much distance as was considered polite from him. "My class design for you is going to be very special."

"Professor Bai had been teaching us _real_ Defense," spoke up one Gryffindor.

"That's right," Nikos said. "And I am going to teach you _real_ Defense, as well."

He looked around once more and slowly pulled out his wand. Rasmus was standing with the Slytherins now, but closer to Gryffindors than most.

"All of you are special," he began, "because all of you already have experience of what it means to be in battle."

The air immediately became heavy, and most Gryffindors glared at their Slytherin classmates.

"Not all," Ron hissed, but audibly enough for his voice to be heard, and several heads bobbed in response. Hermione had sighed, eyes closed, and Harry was scrutinizing his shoes with interest.

"Save it, Weasel," Adeline Gaunt snapped. "You don't know the first thing about it."

"And she's right, just like he's right, too," Nikos intervened, walking his non-chalant step between the green and red, causing them to slowly separate, and simply glare at one another.

"Class! Attention to me, please. It's imprudent not to pay attention to the one wizard with wand drawn." All students seemed to flinch at the sudden firm, steely and decidedly threatening tone Professor Galanos' voice took- one that hinted of danger, though it was not raised above the conversational tone the man was employing. It seemed his flat, loud-vowel accent was making the effect even more impressive.

Nikos continued as if no animosity was making the air crackle, as soon as all eyes were on him.

"As I said, you all know what it means to be in battle- you have survived a war. _Some_ of you, also know what it means to fight in a battle. But _all_ of you know how it feels to need to look over your shoulder nearly every time you breathe. Isn't that correct? It's not like the firsties or so, who haven't lived through dark times."

"Even the little Snape?" drawled another Slytherin, making Rasmus glare, but keep his silence despite the muffled chuckling all around.

Nikos, however, was very grave when he nodded.

"Oh, yes; Rasmus was born into war, grew up through the atmosphere of battles, and knows just what it is like."

Rasmus was glowering, daring anyone to ask Nikos what he was referring to. _Ask and die,_ he mouthed to another Slytherin who seemed tempted to raise his hand.

"So," Nikos didn't pause enough for questions, "as I said, you lot are special. I don't need to teach to you the psychology of being in constant vigilance- you already know it, even if you don't employ it. What we will be learning here, is _battle_."

"Been there, done that," Ron said in bitter irony, "and may I be excused? I, as you can see sir, am crippled at the moment." He pointed at his bound arm.

Nikos arched an eyebrow.

"Oh?" he approached, frowning busily in interest. "Crippled, you say?"

"Yes," Ron seemed ready to burst. "Can I go now?" He avoided Hermione's half-guilty, half-glowering glance.

"No," Nikos shook his head. "But you may come up to the front of the class with me. Thank you! That's the spirit."

Nikos' voice was nearly jovial again as he pulled Ron from his sleeve back to his position at the head of the class.

"Back in Greece, there are two types of citizens," Nikos grinned, with Ron slouching next to him. "Those who battle and those who lurk. Now, when worse comes to worst, even those who lurk will fight to win- but usually they are non combatants, people who can turn off their readiness. All of you are lurkers, just yet."

"Even Harry Potter?" asked another Gryffindor in challenge. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Harry Potter probably would have been, had he been given a chance," Nikos chuckled.

Then he spread his arms in a sweeping move of the entire class.

"But those who battle, battle whether in peace or war- they are the innovators, the inventors, the groundbreakers… the truly brave people that cut the path forward for anyone with the guts to follow," Nikos said, and then twirled his wand in his other hand. "And you will definitely learn to be that, in my class. Starting with Ron here."

"Me?" Ron gasped. "But- but!"

"I would ask you, class, for what you see when you look at Ron, but I know I will get all sorts of wisecracks, and we don't quite have the time for it today," Nikos made the class smirk and chuckle again, and Ron flush, "and so I will sum it up with a question. Hands up, for whoever sees easy pray in a battle. Hands up for anyone who sees an invalid."

Everyone's but Harry's, Hermione's and Rasmus' hands went up. Nikos grinned.

"5 points to the Houses of anyone who didn't raise hands," he said. "Unless you are incapacitated- and that means flat on your face or back on the floor, you are _not _crippled. Every fighter worth their salt would tell you that as long as your head is in working order, your heart in the right place and at least two of your limbs attached and usable, you are still able to fight- and win."

There was silence. Nikos smirked to himself.

"And so, today, in this class, we are going to prove it. Rasmus, do you think you can handle Ron's predicament?"

Rasmus nodded simply and stepped forward, knowing what was coming.

"Yeah, sure," he said.

"Splendid," Nikos waved his wand and Rasmus left arm snapped tightly to his torso, and stayed there, immobile. Nikos turned to Ron, who was yet being confused, along with everyone else. "Ron, are you in pain right now? Even the littlest bit?"

"Uh… uh… guess not," Ron mumbled and Nikos grinned.

"Wonderful! Everyone but Rasmus, stand behind that yellow line on the floor, you too Ron," Nikos said and waited as the students shuffled, obeying his instructions. Rasmus came to stand opposite Nikos, face expressionless, but his gray eyes shining with excitement.

"Can everyone see us?" Nikos asked, and watched some people cringe. _Note to self- ask what class of moron has been associated with the particular question_. "Great! Now, I'll be the bad guy-" Nikos' clothes transfigured in pitch black clothes and cloak, and heavy black eyeliner traced itself around the eyes impressively, giving him a wild punk look. The students chuckled. "Ha ha; laugh all you want, innocent victims, but I have just jumped you all, capturing you for my dark purposes. Only this puny Rasmus is standing in my way, and I have already wounded him out of use of his entire arm!" Blood splattered appropriately all over Rasmus and his immobile arm.

Nikos let out a perfect bad guy cackle, and nodded to Rasmus as he said:

"I will eat him up for breakfast, and then come to finish you. What threat can he be to me?"

"Try this," Rasmus hissed and swished his wand forward. Light erupted from the tip to bind Nikos.

And a duel began that made everyone stand, eyes wide, watching. And Ron suddenly felt very, very small.

***

_And we will see this duel tomorrow, along with (finally) our bad guy couple and what they're up to. And after that, we got some Key business ;) Hope you liked this one!_

_**Sindie**__: Awww! Sorry this was late- but at least it was longer. Do you like?_

_**Syfy**__: thanks :)_

_**Zoe Bright**__: Thank you! People in power … are a long, sad story. XD You like Nikos and Septima as a couple? They are not quite sure yet. _

_See you next time!_


	37. Instruction

_Hello, hello!_

_I'm sorry for the sudden slow in updates, but I promise you they will pick up once March rolls in and the first week or two are behind us. Hectic life should tone it down a little by then. That said, _

_Onwards! Chapter 37._

***

What shocked the students watching the duel between Nikos and Rasmus, was that no quarter was given- even despite the reassurance of Nikos' sigils about the spell protection. Nikos' wand twirled and the white ribbon-like light that snagged around him whiplashed in an odd short of backfire. Rasmus gasped as his wand was yanked from his grip, threatening to disarm him split seconds into the fight. He jumped to hold onto it, and Nikos swung his wand, causing his godson to fly off the floor and follow a very painful route across the air, banging against the walls and floors, against his immobilized arm, his back or the entire side of his body with loud bangs and impressive crushes.

"Those are not spell blows," whispered Hermione as some cringed around her with every smash.

"The little Slytherin's sure getting a wallop," Gaunt muttered, forgetting that she was agreeing with Hermione.

"It's not funny," groused Ron, his eyes dark, making Harry take his eyes off the fight for a moment to look at him.

Rasmus spat a bit of blood from biting his tongue upon a particularly rough landing, still helplessly gripping his trapped wand. _Finite_ wouldn't work with this spell his godfather had taken over from him. _Distract him_, his thoughts throbbed a little dazedly. With his other hand, he made a violent, sweeping movement and one of the chairs in the corner flew forward and behind Nikos, flipping him over in the air. The white ribbon like spell connecting the two wands disappeared. Nikos fell on his side and rolled on his feet in one fluid motion, but by that time Rasmus had fired another spell. A sizeable fireball struck Nikos squarely in the chest, dragging him a few meters back in the process, which gave Rasmus the time to pick himself up- with difficulty as he had only one working arm to steady his rather battered body with.

And then another limb was taken away, as through the spiraling fire Nikos' wand tip was seen and icicles flew at Rasmus' left leg, knocking it out from under him as it stiffened rigidly in a hard coat of ice. Rasmus slammed once more painfully upon his immobilized arm and groaned, but forced himself to keep his eyes open and hiss a protective shield that kept Nikos' next aggressive spell from striking.

"_Sectumsempra!_" he shouted against his godfather, his wand shaking from pain and feeling too heavy to move from his position in the floor. And while Nikos was deflecting the curse, trying to keep the slashes from spreading dangerously, he hurled another one: "_Expelliarmus!_"

Nikos allowed his wand to be taken, and instead tended his hands to Rasmus.

"_Accio Rasmus!_" he bellowed and Rasmus flew into his arms, right into an armlock that threatened to snap his neck. Rasmus froze, panting, and silence slowly settled down. Nobody was even daring to breathe.

"And that, my unfortunate victims," snarled Nikos in his best impersonation of tv villains, "concludes the fight with your last hope to live- he dies, neck snapped. However, you may be consoled to know that he has weakened me so much the next auror that finds me will make short work of me, and get, of course, all the credit in the process."

He smiled down at Rasmus as he helped him up, called his wand to him and released Rasmus' arm and leg from the debilitating spells, and cast a cursory numbing spell for the bruising. As he did so, his clothes returned to normal and the excessive black dissipated, as did the false blood upon his godson.

He looked up at the onlooking class.

"However, class- if _all_ of you fought like Rasmus here did, do you think I, no matter how great a villain, would stand a chance?"

"Certainly not," Harry was the one who answered, a satisfied smile on his face. This guy was the first DADA professor since Remus Lupin to truly make him excited, feel that he had to learn something he couldn't pick up elsewhere. Nobody else spoke much, but there was adequate fidgeting and whispering.

Nikos grinned and winked at Rasmus.

"10 points to Slytherin, Mr. Snape- that was positively fierce."

Rasmus' mouth quirked up at the edge.

"Thank you, sir." He walked back towards the class, and Nikos began speaking again, walking nonchalantly between the students, appraising them and separating them into pairs.

"That was wild, wasn't it? If I was a _really_ conceited villain, thinking Rasmus was done for, he'd have had me. Because you see, rarely does anyone think the obvious: when someone can still speak and wave a wand, one is still potentially lethal."

"So, when in a duel, we shoot to kill," a Slytherin muttered, glaring as he watched how not all pairs were Slytherin-Gryffindor, but his was.

Nikos arched an eyebrow.

"That depends on who you are facing, of course. Sometimes, you do need to shoot to kill, because that's the only thing you can afford. However, that occasion is called for _extremely_ rarely. Ninety nine per cent of the time you will, however, shoot to _incapacitate_. The challenge is to understand what that is. Here, who can try answering that?"

Nikos glanced around and nodded.

"Yes, Harry."

"Make them unable to cast spells."

"Yes; 5 points to Gryffindor. That is your primary target. And then, make sure they can't move, because after spells, there may come knives or even guns- muggle things I'll bring to class when you are ready for them."

"_Muggle_ things?" Gaunt sneered. Nikos smiled.

"Does it matter, if it is something that can kill you?"

He didn't wait for an answer, finishing the pairs- he didn't resist matching Rasmus with Harry, and he very deliberately matched Ron with Hermione. Then, he twirled his wand and everyone's non-wand hand snapped immobile to their torso, just like Ron's was.

"Excellent! You're now ready. Let's begin with a few principles, and then you and your partner will duel until someone is _incapacitated_," Nikos' voice rose in challenge, and he started on his instructions.

_Whatever the case, not one is bored or haughty now._

***

Hermione glared as Ron gripped his own wand, his eyes staring at her folded, still arm, his breathing slightly heavy and his eyes not entirely focused.

"What _is_ the matter with you?" she hissed as Nikos corrected and answered questions. "You are not yourself!"

"I'm okay," Ron said weakly, not even trying to sound convincing. "Man, I hate to see you like me."

Hermione frowned, and Ron cringed as he watched the hackles rise in his girl friend.

"Like you…? Is that it? Is that your way of telling me I didn't back you up against Osiris? That _that_," she pointed at his bad arm, "is _my_ fault?"

"No," Ron's eyes widened in shock, but Hermione's own guilt feelings wrapped up in her desperate anger made it impossible to see it. Her voice escalated in the class:

"If you were _Harry_, then you'd be right- I left _him_ unguarded just to save your ungrateful hide, Ron! _I_ stopped all that bleeding, leaving Osiris to blow holes through Harry if he could! Don't you _dare_ make it my fault!"

"Excellent," Nikos' voice was suddenly very near. "That must have been a healing feat worth watching, Hermione- and I bet Harry likes it that you didn't leave Ron to bleed to death. That was covering his back just as much."

Hermione's eyes watered.

And before anyone else could speak, Nikos' caught Ron's glance.

"And you, Ron, fought well, and now you will learn to fight even better- all us fighters are learning and there for our own. That's all we can do. Do you understand it?"

Ron swallowed uncomfortably, avoiding Hermione's eyes and Nikos'.

"Uh… I guess."

"You'll know by the time we're done today!" Nikos said excitedly and gave the mark to begin their first exercise.

***

Osiris stroked fondly the ancient stones in Stonehenge, purring as he savoured the power that it was imbued in.

"I always was fond of this particular hub, Usat," he said while Isis was tracing with her fingers winding, odd lines upon the stone floor.

"I know, Ausar," she said, but her voice was heavy. "However, we are here for work."

"I believe, Usat, that Slytherin may have lost the Key," Osiris said. "It was nowhere to be found in any of the places he could have adequately hidden it."

"Don't be daft," Isis snapped, and Osiris grit his teeth, his eyes flashing in rage before he pulled that in. "Slytherin would never lose something as powerful as the Key of Wind. The knot is ready, Ausar. Use your Key."

Osiris turned in a slow and regal manner, pulling his wand from his large, wide sleeve and pointing it at the lines Isis had traced on the floor. Nothing seemed to happen, and Osiris didn't chant any spell, but suddenly the dull chalk-like lines lit up in a powerful, resonant lime green.

Isis' usual satisfied languish smirk returned upon that and in reward to Osiris, her hand snaked up his chest slowly until it reached his neck, caressing his ear.

"My husband," she sighed, "you always… rise to any occasion."

"Mmmm," Osiris smiled, grabbing Isis by the waist. "I was under the impression that we were here for work."

"We have some time, before our… guests arrive," Isis pressed herself against him, her long ebony hair like silk against his chest where it was bare, covered only as much as his robe managed at the sides.

"If, of course, they manage to go past our_ true_ faithful," he added, and then pressed his lips upon Isis'.

***

_And that's that! I hope you liked it. _

_**Zoe Bright**__: Nikos is trying to cram some classic fighter bushido that can be found in any culture that has a lot of warring to handle. Greeks generally tend to follow this creed (I'm only out of the fight if I'm dead) when forced into fights, be they war or otherwise. :) And thank you for all your kind words! I am quite swamped myself these days. _

_**Duj**__: fear of failure often makes someone not want to even try, thus risk it._

_**RebeccaRoy: **__Thanks! _

_**Syfy**__: Yes, I often do. Or I think of what other story I'm supposed to be writing and I'm not, because I'm writing Rasmus in my desperate run to finish him. (eh, the story. I'm not foreshadowing anything :P)_

_See you next time!_


	38. Bloodwork

_Hello hello! _

_Any of you miss me? I must tell you, February was hell for me, workload wise. March is promising to be the same, but hopefully I will be able to pick up the updates from now on, and actually finish this little (ahem) story within March itself! _

_So, without any more ado, Onwards! Chapter 38._

***

The Aurors crept stealthily and under invisibility spells towards Stonehenge with confidence and efficiency.

The battle plan had not been changed except to take size, shape and accessibility into account, just like in every other site where their dynamic, amazing minister had sent them to clear out Death Eater dens. This, she had announced through their team captains, would be the jewel in the crown of their achievements- completion of this raid would mean capturing the leaders of the straggling dark wizard camp and the lowlives who had dared try to revive You-Know-Who's legacy. It would also mean the Order of Merlin. The fighting wizards were sure of it, and they were all for striking for their own little piece of fame.

They fanned out a good distance before they reached the actual Stonehenge area, wands out and ready to curse dead anything moving in the howling wind of the very early, black as night, morning. At the appropriate marks from their team leaders, they fell on their bellies and crept closer, to gain as much proximity as possible before they were detected.

All for naught.

Unlike every other time they had been dispatched, all the teams were met radially by a solid force field that suddenly hissed neon green and sliced off any appendage that was unlucky enough to touch it while it was still unseen. The mutilated aurors screamed in anguish as they rolled away or recoiled haphazardly as blood spurted in strong geysers were arteries were sliced clean open, or trying to grab for their disjointed hand, elbow, nose, fingers, or even entire forearms- and those were the lucky ones, because the ones who had lost their heads, could do none of those things.

As if the hacked off flesh and the spilling blood was the cue, silent dark figures against the yet-dark sky leapt forward through the neon-green force field, completely unharmed by it, and fell upon the injured aurors and the startled ones who were bringing up the rear. No shouts, not yells, nothing.

Just silent death.

Most aurors died before they even realized what it was they were being attacked with- the dark wizards were working in pairs, one working the wand, the other working the blade. They were sinister blades, those, looking like oblong golden sickles that gleamed with the diseased greenish tint from the magic that forbade anyone to advance towards Stonehenge, where the leaders of the villains were.

It was nothing like the Death Eaters.

The aurors that tried to ran away died faster than those who tried to hold their ground. It was over so soon that Lyall Hodge, laying flat upon the ground and holding his very breath, direly hoped he was dreaming. His invisibility spell had not been shattered, and his lack of movement seemed to keep him safe from becoming fodder for those- _devils, that's what they are!_

The yells and agony and harrowing throes of death of all his friends and colleagues around him ceased, and still Lyall gripped his wand so hard it shook with tremor, and lay on upon the ground, barely daring to peek around and watch, at a loss for what to do.

The dark figures towered over the hacked bodies of the ministry's finest, swords gleaming shrilly now under the light of the wands that cast light upon the mayhem that reminded Lyall more of a butcher's trash than anything else. Words were uttered in a tongue he couldn't understand and the dreaded greenish force field that had heralded their death disappeared.

Lyall could recognize some faces now that even more light was cast- these people did not hide their faces. Most did not even cover their torsos, and only archaic style jewelry and body paint adorned the warrior bodies. Long dark hair were raised upwards in high ponytails or they were completely bald, their hair shaved off. They were definitely not British- nothing in their stance and behavior indicated it. But those Lyall could recognize, were- they were the surviving Death Eater lieutenants, Voldemort's deadliest and finest that often were spoken of with more respect by auror duelists than the Dark Lord himself.

And yet, they were, apparently, lower in rank than the exotic looking wizards. Lyall could tell, from the way two tall robust wizards ordered them around, telling them what to do and where to stand.

An order was barked into the wild air, so piercing it was heard as if there was no howl all around them, and Lyall flinched. Everyone knelt with religious respect and reverence, touching their heads to the ground and raising their bloodied hands, wands and blades upwards.

It was then that Lyall saw the Leaders for the first time- a man and a woman so beautiful he nearly forgot to be afraid, nearly forgot they were the enemy and almost showed himself.

Isis approached slowly, Osiris just a pace behind her. Under the light invoked by magic and the barely hinting glow of very early dawn, the golden headdress she was wearing seemed made of fire. The air made her filmy, silk-light garments swarm around her like stylized vortexes and she knew she was the all powerful queen to her followers.

"Well done, my children," she purred. "Your deeds bestow Mother Isis' blessing upon you, and your strength shall be multiplied- the Followers of Goddess Isis are not mere mortals, mere wizards, but demi-gods, for they are her children!"

Osiris frowned, raising his chin as if he literally breathed in the air that brought whiffs of blood and bile- he was not the God of Death of nothing, he was not Ausar for naught. He could sense the stench of terror in the air, and that could only mean one thing.

The cultists of Isis hailed and hailed as she reveled in her victory and the message she would send to that sorry excuse of an auguror and that harlot of a minister- until Osiris' hand took her own in respectful challenge.

"My Usat," he purred. "I do believe our children have allowed one intruder to pry upon this holiest of moments."

Isis dark, dark eyes snapped open and her gold-fingered hand flinched in a stylized movement.

Lesions formed upon all the bodies and body parts strewn around the worshippers, until they raked deep welts upon Lyall's back, making his blood burst upwards along with his yell.

"Well well," purred Isis. "A stray child."

***

The session ended with the Golden Trio walking out in heated argument. Nikos smiled, patting himself on the back for work well done- for the cold distancing that had been painfully evident even to an outsider like himself had clearly gone into the past, and heated arguments like those were a certain way of healing back to warm friendship.

All the students walked out numbly- it was the norm with his classes, even back in Greece- but he could see that not one student was walking away without having learnt more than they would know now, but was certain to save their lives when they needed to. He was about to call Rasmus to him, when another Slytherin walked up to him. It was Adeline Gaunt, one of the students that seemed to have fun targeting his godson.

"What is it, Adeline?" he asked evenly, noticing that Rasmus was contemplating lingering and leaving. He didn't want him to go before he spoke with him.

Adeline sighed.

"Sir, I must say that I have not had such a session before."

_It showed_, Nikos thought a little harshly, but he just smiled thinly, waiting the girl out. She was not being very quick, and kept shooting glances at Rasmus as if he was intruding.

"I…think I'll go to my next class," Rasmus said.

"No, Rasmus, we need to talk," Nikos said quickly over Adeline's shoulder.

"At lunch," Rasmus said and jogged out as if he wasn't bruised at all. Nikos breathed out and controlled himself.

He turned his eyes back to Adeline.

"I am listening, Adeline. What do you want to tell me?"

Adeline swallowed.

"Sir, uh… you know I am a Gaunt."

Nikos nodded, but his face remained so impassive Adeline rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Surely in Greece you know the Gaunts are responsible for spawning the Dark Lord!"

"Yes, but I am not sure where this is going, Adeline. Do you feel I have been singling you out negatively?" _If I have, it is more because you picked on my boy than your sodding bloodline, girl._

"No. I am here because you _don't_ look at me like I'm a murderer."

"That would be because you aren't," Nikos said kindly, but impatiently. "But Adeline, unless there is a problem your House Head can't handle, I really need to see to some urgent b-"

Adeline was frustrated, but in the end she blurted it out.

"I speak Parseltongue."

"Gaunts are known to have that trait. But Adeline, speaking any language doesn't mean—"

"No- you _really_ don't get it," Adeline's eyes flashed in desperate anger. "I can't dare talk to anyone here and admit I have any sort of link to the Gaunt blood line save the fact that Morfin raped my mother, who had me before she killed herself. As soon as I'm old enough, I will sue the ministry for giving me my father's surname."

Nikos' heart tightened at the harsh way Adeline was speaking, with emotion he knew she would deny having to anyone else.

"Then why tell me?" he asked quietly.

"Because you harbor a Snape… because you are a foreigner… and because you need me to find the Key of Wind."

For one of the rarest times in his life, Nikos found himself staring at the student, mouth hanging open.

***

_Yikes! Looks like Isis and Osiris didn't even have to fight, eh? _

_Bwa ha ha ha! Who thought I'd picked the name 'Gaunt' at random? Tomorrow we see more Rasmus and the Trio. And maybe some Finn while we're at it. ;) _

_**Sindie**__: how about that for a baddie reappearance? ;) And yes, fighting is serious business! _

_**Duj**__: well compared to some of the things the kids are exposed to, Nikos' classes are tame- keep in mind that his duel with Rasmus was a duel with a student experienced in his sort of teaching. _

_**Zoe Bright**__: Well, the Trio isn't back to normal yet, but yes, they are sorting things out I think everyone must sort out before they become a real fighting team. And I also think that sex between villains is often a domination/ violence interaction rather than anything else. Hope you liked this one! _

_Until next time!_


	39. Blood bonds

_Hello, hello! _

_Did anyone miss me, like, at all? :P _

_As you probably all have gathered by now, only during strong holidays do I have the chance to be updating fast. I do hope you will still come back and read this little story while we are entering the most intense part of it. Well it's the final part so it should be, shouldn't it? _

_So, without anymore ado, onwards! Chapter 39._

_*** _

"Rasmus. Son," the quiet call reached Rasmus' ears, making the wiry teen shiver with a pang of pained longing. Rasmus halted near the painting, but he didn't turn to look at Severus, bending his head to let his hair hide his eyes. His knuckles tightened around his schoolbooks.

The dark wisps of paint making up what there remained of the Potions Master within these three dimensions seemed to flinched, but his voice remained even.

"I believe we do need to speak," he said matter of factly, "in private. Your godfather's office would serve best right now, as he's rather busy with Miss Gaunt."

"With Gaunt?" Rasmus blinked at the painting in surprise. "Whatever would she want with him?"

"Come," Severus said and left the painting frame, forcing Rasmus to go to Nikos' office quickly and forget all about Sinistra's arithmancy class he had been heading to.

Nikos hadn't changed anything in the office that the late Professor of Defense against the Dark Arts had had. It was a constant reminder that despite McGonagall's official hiring of the Greek auguror in the position for the rest of year, Nikos didn't feel truly part of Hogwarts' staff. So everywhere around, Rasmus could see stacks upon stacks of filing boxes with Guiren Bai's handwriting, several spare wands on a shelf, along with other gadgets and things Rasmus suspected were odd contraptions made by Professor Bai for his protection or potential attack.

All around the office there was no space for any painting frame amidst the boxes and the stacks of books and heavily loaded shelves of dull, drab items except the contraption shelf, but for one spot, directly in the line of sight of the person sitting at the desk: a painting in soft pastel colours that reminded Rasmus of the early dawn, of a young woman jiggling a little boy lovingly on her lap. It made the last remaining Snape's heart drop a little.

Severus entered the frame less forcefully than usual, and the two original occupants smiled and left gracefully, leaving their frame as if giving their permission for the Potions Master to use it. Rasmus slid his hands in his pockets slowly, looking at his father with a blank, closed expression that was not unlike that of his father. For a second, the painting and the boy looked at each other.

"Thank you for coming so promptly," Severus began, but the atmosphere was heavy. Rasmus shrugged one shoulder. Then, he sighed and asked:

"What do you want, father?"

"I watched you with that research," Severus said. "And its content is commendable."

"How did you read it?" Rasmus asked suspiciously. Snape's mouth quirked upwards slightly smugly.

"Nikos' easy chair is right in front of a rather large frame with just the right angle to read over his shoulder. You definitely have your mother's gift for breakthrough and, I do not refrain from adding, your father's daring for experimentation. And that is exactly what I need to warn you about."

Rasmus' face fell.

"If it is as great as you say, godfather would have at least praised it before class, and you wouldn't need to warn me."

Snape clicked his tongue and shook his head, his long fingers tapping lightly against his side of the frame.

"No, Rasmus; no. You know better than that- the only reason Nikos hasn't commented on it yet is because he is frightened. Blood magic is very dangerous, and the basis of your remedy for Osiris' anchor to this world is exactly that."

"It is the only way I found and could piece together to send Osiris back to hell after my blunder! I _let_ Osiris have my blood all over again, no matter what godfather's saying!" Rasmus' voice escalated, his grey eyes flashing. "What has he got to be afraid of unless he thinks I'll botch it up?"

"Blood magic should be feared," Severus said calmly, but his son interrupted, beginning now to pace in the room like Severus had, too.

"He's taught me a great deal of things that are dangerous, deadly even. That fight all those students ogled at in the DADA practical, dad? It's nothing compared to what is a _real_ spar between us and what kind of deadlies he teaches me to dodge or parry! Why in _blazes_ does he think blood magic is more frightening that anything else I've dabbled in with _his_ encouragement, and yours and mother's even?"

Severus knotted his hands in front of him while watching his son's tirade.

"Because son, it is what killed your mother."

The soft statement winded Rasmus and he blinked at his father.

"I…didn't know that," he almost whispered unwittingly switching back to Greek. "Just that the cultists got her. I… thought it'd been fast and… and painless."

"Nobody felt you needed to know that, son. You were young and I couldn't be there as long as I would have liked. It was best for everyone that you didn't know the details." Snape's voice was more emotional than usual even if it was even. "But because very soon you will need to make your decisions on your own, it is time you knew just why it is _your_ blood that Osiris has always been after to anchor himself. Then, and only then, will you be able to speak to Nikos in the manner he needs to hear."

Rasmus breathed in and sat down on a stool, looking up at his father's portrait, his eyes glistening.

"Tell me," he said softly, and Snape began to narrate to his son.

***

Minister Dawlish screamed through tears of frustrated rage as she got the report of no survivors left of the one raid she had counted on to establish her rule once and for all. She kicked around, maddened, trashing her office under the jeering glance of Pollux Black leering at her from his frame.

"I told you so," he smirked and Isa yelled once more, grabbing her inkwell and throwing it at the portrait. The dark red ink spilled as the china inkwell smashed flamboyantly in a representation of the blood she had spilt because she strayed from that accursed Auguror's instructions. Guilt and rage burdened her alike, as she screamed for her assistant to come inside.

The secretary scampered in- thankfully it was not that confounded Weasley- and watched her fearfully as he stood as close to the door as he possibly could.

"Gunther, ensure there's a complete hush on this-this shambles. I don't want to read a single line about the operation in Stonehenge in any newspaper or magazine- not even the trashy ones, you hear? If anyone does leak something I'm sending you to Azkaban without a trial! Understand?"

"Y-yes, minister," the man blinked at her, and Isa growled.

"Well what are you standing here for, go!"

The man bolted and she spelled the door to close behind him with a bang. Relative silence ensured for a few seconds after that, but then Pollux sneered at her through the rivulets of dark red ink slowly drying on the canvas:

"A complete hush, a shut down on this news, hm? I take it your illustrious plan includes not telling McGonagall?"

"Sure, why not," Isa said dryly as she reached for the firewhiskey in her- yet untouched- cabinet, kicking files and papers that now littered her floor away with her shoe.

"You do not think the auguror she's managed to acquire in that menagerie of a school, will _not_ tell her, and not in a way you can control? You _do_ want McGonagall on your side, don't you?"

Minister Isa Dawlish's eyes flashed angrily, and the moment she downed her drink she let the glass smash.

"Shut it, Black!"

"Just make sure you get an appointment with the Headmistress," Pollux said as he slid out of his marred portrait to request cleaning from the janitor downstairs.

***

Nikos sat down next to Adeline Gaunt and offered her a seat. Then with his wand, he warded the classroom for sound.

"All right, Adeline, I am listening," he said as evenly as he could make it. The 7th year Slytherin sighed, wringing her hands, but managed a thin smile.

"I like it how you call us by our first names and not the surname. It makes me feel so much better in this class rather than any other."

"I remember first names better," Nikos said but didn't go on to comment further that it didn't suit him to call kids by their last name as it was nearly never done where he came from.

The girl realized that the Greek professor was waiting for her to speak, so with a flinched she leaned forward as she sat and said:

"I know about the keys, because of the portrait."

"Professor Snape's?" Nikos asked dubiously.

"No, Merlin no! Professor Snape's portrait never speaks to me; I think it hates me. No, I'm talking about Salazar Slytherin's."

"I see," Nikos said, his mind working a mile a minute. "Tell me."

"Well, he …Salazar's portrait is the only family I really have. The only one that… well… anyway that's irrelevant. We speak in parseltongue. When Salazar's portrait speaks in parseltongue, he says a lot more things than one would imagine. He has told me of the Pythagoreans and of the five Keys. You are right that he hid it here in Hogwarts. He has told me where to get it if I ever want it. Even how to use it."

Nikos felt his heart skip beats. Salazar's portrait revealed other information through parseltongue! Of course, _of course!_ Nikos felt both triumphant and sheepish, wondering how nobody had ever thought of it, and why he had not.

"That is wonderful, Adeline," he said sincerely, his nearly amber eyes scrutinizing her closely. "Tell me, why does Salazar's portrait speak to you so much? As I know it, he nearly never speaks to anyone and even to Tom Riddle he was silent."

Adeline bit her lip and side glanced at Nikos a little tentatively. She lowered her eyes but Nikos had already seen the answer, half-proud half-fearful, twinkling in her eyes.

"He feels you are his real heir, doesn't he, Adeline?"

Adeline's head rose with aggressive assertion but still she was silent.

Nikos smiled and nodded, rising from his chair.

"You don't need to give me any other answer, Adeline. Come, let's go to my office, and see if the Headmistress won't see us with what you have to tell us."

Adeline got up but still she stalled.

"Wait; I will help you, but I want you to help me in return."

Nikos arched an eyebrow.

"I'm sure we can work something out."

"I want…" Adeline sighed again. "I want you to take me to Greece with you, when you return. Where nobody knows the name of Gaunt."

_You'll be surprised how much gossip works in Greece,_ Nikos thought ruefully but nonetheless he nodded.

"For sure, if you still want to by then, then you can come over," he smiled casually. Adeline tried to keep her mouth from smiling but failed.

"Thank you," she said truthfully. "Will you swear it?"

"My word is my contract," Nikos said, "but if you need insurance, I will give it with this," he raised his wand.

It was only then that the smile reached Adeline's dark eyes that were so used to be just angry and suspicious.

***

_And that's that for now! Write me your thoughts and comments please! Where do you think Salazar has hidden the key?_

_**Duj**__: You are right, this is not something they'd be able to do on their own. But in some way or other, didn't they always get some sort of help?_

_**Remi Hakvoort**__: Well I will certainly hope it shall! This is a quiet chapter, but it is necessary for what is coming that is not so quiet…._


	40. Collateral

_Hello, hello, everyone! I know I sound like I dropped off the face of the earth or abandoned this story to write others, and so on, but none of that is true. I just have far too much on my plate in real life and duties to enforce discipline or regime in my writing of fanfiction. Fanfiction is for me to catch a break, so I write it as it comes. But I do finish what I start- because I wanna read it too! :P _

_**Brief **__**story summary for those who have forgotten (feel free to bypass if you remember the yarn)**__: Minerva realizes that Snape had a son with a Greek potions-and-things-that-go-boom master who is dead. He was keeping Rasmus secret for security reasons, but now at his 15 Rasmus transfers to Hogwarts with his uncle Nikos(who is also his godfather) as chaperone. Nikos is an Arithmancer of high level and dangerous application called an Auguror (he can see into the immediate future with his equations or open portals in the dimensions) and an accomplished dueler. Minerva and the others realize these two have come with a mission to keep the bigger, badder, more nefarious dark wizards from reaching full power. These are none other than the ancient gods Isis and Osiris, who have kept themselves alive through anchors and horcrux-y stuff. These two have a cult that is battled by the Pythagorians, a secret society of wizards mainly in Greece that both Rasmus' parents turn out to have been members of. Nikos is, too. Isis needs Blood of Victors (and other icky stuff) of potent dark wizards to keep Osiris alive and not-a-mummy. When she fails to harvest the bodies of Snape and Dumbledore, she goes after Minerva, Harry Potter and Rasmus to harvest the ingredients she needs. Yes, Harry Potter has also come with Hermione and Ron to complete their senior year, and get tangled up in this great mess- because it wouldn't be Harry if trouble didn't find him, too. _

_In the raid that ensues to harvest these guys, the DADA professor and Poppy are killed, and everyone else is battered in some way. Rasmus feels most of this is his fault for disobeying Snape's portrait's order to go hide.__ Minerva asks Nikos to serve as DADA professor for the remainder of the year to teach kids to defend against such potent aggressors as the type of wizards Isis and Osiris are._

_Turns out that to reach full power, Isis and Osiris need to get in possession of magic artifacts called 'keys' of which they are currently trying to get the one Salazar Slytherin pinched from Osiris back in the Middle Ages and hid somewhere in Hogwarts. Of course no matter how much they or their minions have looked over the ages, nobody found it because Sal is crafty. :P _

_In the meantime, Rasmus feels guilty for allowing Osiris to steal blood from him twice at the near-death of his uncle, so he researches a way to 'make it right' by undoing the spell-bind that uses his blood to keep Osiris tied to the living. While this is happening, Isa Dawlish who is Minister is trying to round up Isis' cultists using intelligence Minerva gives her from Nikos' Augury (the advanced arithmancy), but she also botches it because she tried for a raid Nikos said she should keep away from, and all of her aurors are butchered. That is not going to look well in the polls, so Isa throws a fit. _

_Lastly, we find out that one of the antagonizing Slytherin students in Rasmus' class, Adeline Gaunt, is considered by Salazar's portrait as the true Heir of Slytherin, as she speaks parseltongue, shares Salazar's blood and doesn't want anything to do with Tom Riddle (to avoid harassment), and has told her where he hid the key. So she goes to Nikos to strike a deal with that collateral while Snape talks to Rasmus from his portrait, trying to keep him from applying his research on the whole Blood Bond thing._

_Whew! That's that more or less. It may not LOOK brief, but considering this is chapter number FORTY, I'd say it damn well is! _

_So, everyone with us now, memories refreshed and all? _

_Let's move on! Chapter 40. _

_/ / / _

Lyall was certain he had splinched himself.

At least he hoped he had, if only to stopper the horrible pain he was feeling, the sheer horror of having to look at his body to see what was left, the gore he was certain there was covering him instead of clothes. That was not the parting image he wanted to have from life upon leaving it to face whatever there was- or _wasn't_- after death.

No. Lyall wanted to die with the beauty of flowers on his retina and the smell of honey in his nose, and the laughter of children in his ears. He didn't want to remember the mangled bodies of his fellow aurors as they fell like hay under Isis' spell and equally helplessly, he didn't want to still smell the blood and fluid exposed to the atmosphere, and he had to find a way to shake that haunting laughter of glee from his ears that was too gentle to belong to the butcher of a witch that had discovered him.

Lyall cried, because it was winter already, and there were no flowers around, and no honey to saturate the air with its smell. The familiar meadow was asleep, like he would soon be dead. He hoped he died before Isis found him again, before her spells that wouldn't let anyone approach made him hope for the Cruciatus just to feel relief by comparison. They were vicious, horrible on a whole different level, the spells of that otherwordly witch, the way they burnt, singed, twisted and slashed with the gentleness of a caress and the cold unyielding of a serial killer. It wasn't the crude cruelty of the Cruciatus that he had tolerance against. It had been elegant agony his body didn't know how to shut down, didn't know how to handle, and thus bypassed all his defenses to force him to feel every bit of the pain the goddess-level witch wanted him to feel.

_I hope I splinched myself,_ he panted, trying to crawl on his elbows, dragging the dead weight that was his body upon the hardened, chilled soil that was the jagged and inhospitable edge of the Forest, just as he remembered it. He had the distinct impression that he was making a wide wet line with his torso as he dragged upon the ground. He wasn't sure if he still had his legs, but he didn't turn to look what he was leaving behind and what he was dragging along. He would _not_ look upon himself after Isis, and before he died. He would crawl to the edge of the Forest and look upon the meadow, even if it wasn't green and flecked with Spring, and then he'd sleep as well, and never wake up again.

He heaved again with a gurgly grunt.

His elbows gave way, and his face hit the ground hard with a sickening thud, and Lyall realized his face was probably full of gore as well. There had to be pain shooting up from somewhere below his neck, but his brain was too overwhelmed to process that anymore. He shut his eyes as tears flowed with childish chagrin. Why hadn't he died already? _Please don't let Isis find me. Please finish me, and let me smell a flower, and I will die without fear,_ he asked futilely, for he was not yet within the haven he had rushed to in his maddened, crazy, despaired attempt to flee Stonehenge and doom.

/ / /

Professor Frideswide frowned to herself as she raised her head from where she was carefully snipping ingredients with a small whitegold sickle. Surely no student was foolish enough to sneak into the Forbidden Forest, after everything that had taken place. Right? She frowned.

"Harry?" she asked aloud, but not to loudly. No response came, no suspicious stillness or any sort of reaction. Erna smirked at her own tendency to expect Potter to have said foolishness. There nothing there, the slithering she heard probably by creatures entitled to be where they were.

She shook her head and turned back to her work, but as she neared her sickle to one of the wide swaying iridescent leaves of the plant she was harvesting, there came a moan- and for a moment it seemed like the plant was in pain. Then she realized the groans and sobs were coming from further behind her, and they were definitely human.

Tensing, Erna stood up, pulling out her wand from her jeans' back pocket. Her mouth set into a line, she swished it, whispering a quick spell to grant her partial invisibility and carefully approached to where the sounds had come. They seemed to have died down now.

The blackened barks of the Forbidden Forest trees were constantly blocking her vision, but along with the frustration that also gave her a sense of safety, since the trees would also shield her from rogue spells against her.

The smell of blood reached her nostrils- heavy bleeds, serious wounding, her healer's senses told her, but she held back from rushing to the injured. Too many things had happened, too many deaths, to let her guard down so easily. Hogwarts could not afford yet another dead professor, and she wouldn't be able to avenge Guiren's death if she died so quickly.

There was a thinning of the vegetation a few paces ahead, too small to be legitimately called a clearing, where the sun was a little stronger. There was a human-like form sprawled there, immobile, covered in blood and tattered clothing. The healer in her _screamed_ for her to rush to him, but Erna held back still, her eyes scrutinizing the surroundings for any hostile wizards hidden in the shrubbery. For a few tantalizing moments, she held still, listening for anything out of place, and heard nothing.

She rushed to the man then, flicking her wand to assess whether he was even alive, and her heart clenched as she took in his robes. _An auror. He must have apparated here,_ her mind provided as she went through the motions of seeing whether there was anything to salvage. The man's left leg was completely twisted off at the knee, attached still by just a bit of sinew and skin- a sluggish bleed, the artery still clenched shut in the reflex reaction of shock. There was too much blood caked on his torso to realize the full extent of his injuries, but Erna could see that his back was one big lesion, and the right shoulderblade had given out in what had apparently been his effort to crawl on his elbows.

That his arms were not broken or mangled seemed nothing short of miraculous.

But his head… Erna grit her teeth as her wand moved through the rapid motions of the field medic shields necessary to keep this man's soul within his body- for somehow he was still alive. She magically bound the grotesquely dangling leg and secured his vitals- and as it was apparent that he wouldn't be able to adequately breathe with the fluid rapidly accumulating in his lungs, she spelled oxygen to be transferred to his bloodstream regardless.

That done, she took a moment to settle her own roiling stomach at the horror before her eyes- the horror that made this man's form mix with that of Guiren Bai's in her mind, sprawled on the cold stone floor bleeding out while she did nothing- and then raised her wand to the sky to call for more help.

/ / /

Rasmus exited Nikos' DADA office quietly, burdened with what his father had narrated. He grit his teeth as waves of rage at what had been done to his mother threatened to overwhelm him. Had he known that when Osiris was before him, he may not have chosen to be solely defensive in his dueling.

_Yeah. And that would have earned you an earlier grave than what you'll probably get,_ his self chided snarkily in his mind.

"Damn you, Osiris. You have stolen far too much of me," he whispered, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, though they were dry of tears. Rasmus was determined not to let that go unpunished. And though he knew his father had narrated to him the actual conditions of his mother's death in order to dissuade him from using what he had discovered against Osiris, it only made the youth more determined to do exactly that.

But he wouldn't tell Nikos that. His godfather didn't deserve to worry.

Rasmus sighed. _You don't have a right to make Nikos feel responsible,_ Severus had told him. _I do not believe he would be able to survive your passing._

His father was nothing if not blunt, even after death, Rasmus thought in frustration. And it put an extra burden on him that he didn't appreciate, though he could see both the truth in it, and the manipulation.

"You won't dissuade me, dad," he grumbled as he walked near the various portraits of the corridor, knowing that though his father wasn't in them, he'd get the message via relay. "I'll just study more. And I will do it with Potter's gaggle's help, just to spite you," he added as an afterthought.

The thought made him smile mirthlessly as he straightened up, and his gait became brusquer as he got a purposeful route- to the library, right where he knew Hermione would be.

"Hey, Snape!"

Rasmus groaned inwardly and rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was a pointless verbal or magic skirmish with Gaunt.

"I'm not in the mood, Gaunt," he snapped, trying to walk away faster, but she caught up with him.

"Relax, Snape," Adeline said sardonically. "I'm not here to harass you. And you should be a little politer to me too, seeing as I'm now a valuable ally to your godfather."

"You? That would be a novelty indeed," scoffed Rasmus. "Since he hates bullies and hot-headed loudmouths."

Adeline glared at Rasmus, but it wasn't the rage she could harbor for other classmates verbally attacking her. It never had been. Adeline idly realized that it was probably because the younger Snape had never used her lineage as a weapon against her.

She snorted.

"Really now, Snape, _do_ show some of that dashing courtesy everyone is talking about; because without me, you will never manage to find the Key you're so desperate for."

To his credit, Rasmus managed to keep his face impassive as he took in the information.

"Knowing your likes, you got something out of that offer already, Gaunt; so spare me. You can't bury three at the price of one."

Adeline paused, then smirked.

"I will not even try to guess what that means; probably something that Greeks find impressive," she couldn't resist the jibe, "but look: Obviously I didn't come here for your charming personality."

"You could have fooled me," Rasmus smirked acidly. "Since you've been blocking my path and yammering all this time."

Adeline's eyes flashed, and for a moment it sounded like she was trying hard not to hiss her words at the teen.

"Your uncle sent me, you little cretin," she nearly snarled at him. "He wants me to tell you he asks that you don't do anything _stupid_ before he has a chance to talk to you. Since he's been called to the infirmary with Frideswide."

Rasmus frowned and forgot to keep yanking Adeline's chain.

"The infirmary? What's happened? Who's ill?"

"I don't know," Adeline shrugged. "And so long as it's not him or you, I frankly do not _care_." She added as she brushed past him in the huff that Rasmus had wanted to procure for his amusement, but was now too worried to enjoy.

For a moment, he hesitated, Adeline all but forgotten. Should he go to the infirmary and see what was wrong, or should he continue to go find Hermione and discuss his Blood Bond research with her? _It will mean telling her what father told you,_ his mind warned.

Rasmus chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, then made his decision and trotted of quickly to the library. The most important thing was to make sure his plan would work, maybe even before Nikos asked Adeline to reveal where the Key was hidden. If Osiris were removed, even if Isis was not, it would be better odds for everyone. Rasmus had no doubt about that.

And since Severus had heaped the responsibility of lessening the risks of his plan to the lowest –_that was not what he asked you. He asked you not to do it._

Rasmus breathed in, setting his shoulders. Since he had to minimize risk, he couldn't think of a better counsel than the one who had kept _Potter_ alive through six years' worth of shenanigans until it came down to the endgame that... _yeah, don't go there right now._

Yes, until Nikos was ready to talk to him, he'd go seek out the Golden Trio for the first time of his own initiative, and lay out _his_ problem to be solved, like Harry had done earlier on to him. That was fair. And within limits of his godfather's request.

For of course, talking to Hermione could not be stupid, could it?

/ / /

_And that's that for now! _

_I promise we will find out what Snape told Rasmus soon, as well as where Salazar hid the key. I can't wait until I get to that part! _

_And look! Lyall survived Isa's botched raid! Well, sort of. :/ I think it will be interesting to see how he managed. _

_Now, I know most of those of you who commented will have forgotten what you said, but I will answer you anyway. :p _

_**Bumblebee88888:**__ I didn't update soon, but I promise you I will always update. And no, the Key is not in the Room of Requirement. Everyone looks there lately! I also want to thank you for your reviews, they were excellent and very encouraging. If you look at my profile you will see I actually AM Greek, so that should answer you how I'm so familiar with the culture and the general Mediterranean mythologies :D _

_**Zoe Bright**__: If Rasmus ever has kids, he may even be a smothering dad. Right now though, he's just confused and driven to 'make things right' even if he really isn't the one who should make them so. _

_**Sindie:**__ I missed you too! Though lately I've been reading your AU fic, which is very promising :) We'll see what Rasmus' solution is. If Sev says it's good, you can imagine it's more than that though- at least in achieving the primary goal, never matter collateral damage :/ _

_**Hwyla**__: Thank you! I hope you still follow this after all this time._

_**Duj**__: No, it's not there. He hid it somewhere where only HE would be able to grant entrance- not just any parselmouth. You'll see ;) _

_And that's that! I hope next time is sooner than last time was :P_


	41. Allies

_Hello, hello!_

_I come to you sooner than last time, with chapter 41, and I am hoping I will manage to fit in here a couple of reveals. I am speedwriting this so here's hoping!_

_Onwards! Chapter 41._

/ / /

Ron's arm was still alarmingly slow and needed the restraint of the sling mainly to keep out of the way of movement, but the redhead had decided to ignore it from then on, and work with what he had. Nikos' demonstration at the DADA practical and the subsequent quarrel with Hermione and Harry had convinced him to suck it up and move on, even if despite Frideswide's assurances it didn't seem he was getting any better. Hermione had accused him he was being worse than Percy- and while that accusation had enraged him at the time, he could now see that he was being exactly what he hated in Percy: a weeping drama queen- only Percy chose to be that when it came to social position.

Ron still bristled thinking the accusation unfair, but he could see that he had moped overly much and he needed to make up for it.

Therefore, he practiced the moves Professor Galanos had taught the class in the same abandoned old Gryffindor common room where Rasmus had helped Harry with his dreams, focusing on the balance issues and the limitation of only having one hand busy with the wand.

"That's more like the Ron I know," was heard Hermione's voice as Ron paused to catch his breath. Ron raised his head hopefully and tried for a small smile.

"Yeah… well I hate being an ass, so …"

"Duly noted," smirked Hermione, "thankfully so. But take a break and come at the library with me until dinner," she nodded for him to follow.

Ron groaned.

"Hermione! You know I am not in my natural habitat in a library."

"It's where Rasmus wants to talk to us, and Harry didn't want you to think we'd leave you out of it." Hermione walked away from the door.

"The little Snape? What now?" Ron's heart picked back up in beats at the thought that Osiris may be on his way back to finish what he started already.

"I don't know. He wouldn't speak before we were all there," Hermione said, and although she sounded calm, the slight crease between her eyebrows as she also ruminated the possibilities told Ron that for sure, it could be nothing good.

He followed quickly, pocketing his wand.

/ / /

Nikos' lips were pressed into a thin line as he gazed upon the wounded auror's still form upon the infirmary bed. Frideswide had put a protective screen around it so students wouldn't catch glimpse of the man. Nikos was glad.

Even after their extensive healing session, the auror was a ghastly sight. Where bandages didn't swath his head and part of his face, deathly pallor signaled the grimness of his condition. The one eye that was untouched and unbandaged was closed, the lid looking frail and paper thin, but still firmly sealed as if never to open again.

Nikos sighed as he sat softly upon the chair next to Frideswide, knowing that under the pajamas and blankets, heavy padding and bandages lay over mangled flesh.

"I don't think we should move on to the next session earlier than 48 hours," he murmured thoughtfully. Erna nodded.

"I agree. I am amazed he could endure the work in the internal injuries and the fractured bones," she added.

Nikos smiled a little smugly, conjuring his eternal mug of coffee.

"Sigils, my dear. Practically perfect in every way."

Frideswide smiled tiredly to herself.

"Mary Poppins- always a loved film."

Nikos turned to look at her.

"For a British witch, you are remarkably up to date with muggle stuff."

Frideswide chuckled.

"True; but then I love muggle technology, always have."

"Let me guess. Muggleborn?" Nikos ventured.

"Naw," Erna shook her head. She arched an eyebrow. "Doesn't the great Auguror know already?"

Nikos grinned sardonically between sips.

"I'm an Auguror, not Clairvoyant. But if you want me to cast your chart, I will do that."

Before Frideswide could answer, the Headmistress passed through the screen doors with her brusque, tight gait.

"Shall we manage to salvage this man, Professors?" she asked quietly.

"We don't know yet," Nikos sighed, glancing at the comatose auror. "In all honestly, the man should be receiving full hospitalization- something like St. Mungos."

"No," Minerva was adamant. "It is to everyone's interest, the patient's included, if no survivors are reported existing from the mayor's shambles."

Nikos' eyes darkened as his heart sank.

"Mayor's shambles…?" he iterated, not managing to keep the horror from creeping in his voice. "But my warnings…?"

"There are debriefings due, Professor," Minerva said, "from both of us and this is not the place to do it. As soon as you are able, please join me in my office."

/ / /

Rasmus and Harry found it hard to disperse the silence between them while Hermione was away fetching Ron. Harry was fidgeting and Rasmus was looking away, unsure of what to say- and he had never been good at small talk. In the end, it was Harry that breached the silence in a slightly embarrassed voice.

"Ehm… your cardigan pocket is twitching."

Rasmus' mouth quirked upwards in a way that somehow reminded Harry of Severus Snape vividly- although the Boy Who Lived didn't recall the late potions master without a scowl once.

"That's Betty- my cat. Given by Frideswide as a consolation present for getting bitted by a rattlesnake," he explained as he fished the tiny kitten from his pocket with one hand. Betty immediately began purring.

Harry found himself chuckling, grateful for the sound ward Hermione had taught him. Rasmus arched an eyebrow.

"What?" he couldn't help being defensive as his fingers stroked the cat between and behind her ear. "Kittens strictly girl territory for you, Potter?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "I just never would have believed a Snape being attached to a pet- I'm not implying anything, just…"

"I know father was harsh-sounding and in your case he was coming across as particularly nasty. Don't look at me like that- I like being objective. But you never had a chance to know him as he could be when not bound by …" Rasmus trailed off, but Harry nodded.

"His path was the darkest. I am happy at least he did get to show you a different self."

"Yeah," Rasmus said after a pause where every other answer seemed inappropriate. He stroked Betty more to fill the silence, and pocketed the kitten as soon as it was asleep again.

Hermione still wasn't coming.

Rasmus cleared his throat, feeling it was his turn to try.

"So uh… how's your leg? You know from… Osiris."

"Oh, it's perfect. Never better," Harry grinned. "Your uncle's a really good healer. Frankly he's really good in everything he does, apparently."

"Nah," chuckled Rasmus. "He's a terrible cook and can't possibly keep any room he owns tidy. If he weren't a wizard, he'd be a bum. Honestly! My mother had lost all hope on him on the matter."

"We're here!" Hermione arrived at the perfect moment, because it only occurred to Harry then, that just like him, Rasmus had lost both parents, and in the same time Severus Snape had lost both women he had loved- because Harry couldn't believe the obscure potions master had not harbored strong feelings for Rasmus' mother despite anything he may have claimed.

And it made Harry torn, emotional, unsure of how to deal with the young man opposite him that had so much of Snape in him and yet was nothing like the black clad harrowing figure Harry had loathed for so long.

"Great, sit, guys," Harry said, waving his wand to include Hermione and Ron in the sound ward. "Rasmus hasn't yet said anything."

"I'd rather say what I got once- since Hermione wanted you two to hear it too."

"And you're okay with this?" Ron's eyebrows arched.

Rasmus clicked his tongue, his hand straying in his pocket for Betty's comfort.

"No," he said. "But I wasn't okay with you knowing other things about my family either, and yet you do." He turned his eyes to Hermione.

"What do you know about blood allurement?"

"It's blood magic. Very dangerous spells, usually used by Dark Wizards," she frowned. "Did someone Allure you?"

"Was that what Osiris did to you?" Ron said, earning a kick in his ankle for his lack of tact as Rasmus scowled.

"No, Weasley, what Osiris did to me was a knot spell."

"You're going to Allure him, aren't you?" Harry was the one who spoke up.

"You've been studying Anchors; you know that they can't be broken unless the item used to bind them is destroyed. One of Osiris' Anchors is an amulet hanging around his neck. It holds blood. My blood, which is holding him bound to his body." Rasmus' eyes were focused on the smooth surface of the library table and his voice was quiet and forced. It made Harry's heart traipse as a scene at a horrid cemetery flashed behind his eyes, and another dark wizard had used Harry's blood for his own benefit.

"We'll help you break the blood bond," he nearly blurted out. Rasmus raised his eyes with a bit of surprise.

"Potter, you haven't yet heard what it is you'd be getting into if I take you up on that offer."

"Don't care," Harry said. "I speak for myself anyway- not Ron and Hermione."

Ron scoffed.

"Please- if we're here, it means we're in from the get go, right?"

"Of course," Hermione nodded.

Rasmus swallowed.

"For Osiris' anchor to break, either I have to die, so my blood will not be the agent of life any longer, or use Blood Allurement to … um… change it."

"Change your blood?"

"He speaks of magic blood poisoning, Harry," Hermione said gravely. "Rasmus, we absolutely can't let you do this. Does your godfather know?"

"No," Rasmus said. "Well, he does know I have been researching it, but… I lied. Or thought was lying at the time."

"I don't get it," Ron said. Silence from Harry and Hermione implied they didn't either.

Rasmus sighed, feeling somewhere in his heart that he was cheating, betraying Nikos by telling these three what he had kept from him, but he ploughed on anyway.

"What I will tell you now is not to be told to any third party," he said rather officially while his eyes flashed threateningly, "or I promise I can be just as nasty as my father had been when I need to. My godfather _cannot_ be told. Not yet."

"Gryffindors can keep secrets," Harry smiled, but it was a thin one, not matched by his eyes, where worry churned. How many more points would be common between them?

Rasmus took a deep breath.

"That Osiris is still around, making Isis almost invulnerable as her partner is my fault. My godfather nearly died to sever the blood bond, and I let Osiris have more blood. I want to correct that- make it so Osiris gets no more blood from me or any other Galanos. It's our blood he needs, because he was once defeated by one of our ancestors, thus making it the best magic ingredient for a long-enduring anchor."

"How long enduring?" Harry asked.

"At least three centuries," Rasmus sighed. Then he continued: "Initially in my research, when I found the only way to do it was to use Blood Allurement to alter my blood enough I saw that it would mean my death anyway- and uncle would never let me go on with it. So I searched for some potion or agent that would protect me while the blood allurement worked, severing the bond. After the bond is severed, it doesn't matter if there's Galanos blood around. Osiris must seek it elsewhere or perish in a few hours."

Hermione leaned forward.

"And did you find some such potion?"

"Of course not," snorted Rasmus. "Who in their right minds would want to cast Allurement on _themselves_? The Allurement spells are meant to be cast on _the enemy_."

"So what did you show your uncle?" Ron was the one to ask. "You must have shown him something to at least keep him in the dark about your real intention."

"I told him I had composed a potion, based on most of my mother's and his notes on the way spells can be ingrained into potions, and that it would protect me while the Allurement was cast."

The Golden Trio looked at Rasmus doubtfully, so the youth deflated and slumped a little as he said,

"I also said I intended to cast the actual Allurement spell on Osiris' amulet, not me."

The Golden Trio nodded.

"So, how can we help?" Hermione asked. "Why did you initially want to talk to just me?"

"Because after… after a talk with my… with the portrait," Rasmus said, "I decided to make one of the lies into truths. I want to really make that potion work- I need the help of someone who really knows potions. And my dad had said that you were one of those people, Hermione."

Hermione couldn't help beaming.

"Professor Snape said that about me?"

"Well… yeah," Rasmus said, deciding not to ever quote his father's exact words on the particular evaluation.

"Rasmus… why not cast the Allurement on the amulet?"

"Because even if the amulet is destroyed, Osiris will be able to get more blood in a new vessel Isis will make him. It has been done before. I want my bloodline's blood to finally be off limits to that bastard."

Somehow, Rasmus' soft yet deathly tone coupled with a glare of determination the Trio knew well even though the eyes were gray now, not black, drove the realization home to Harry, Ron and Hermione that Rasmus' quest was beyond that of his legacy as Pythagorian.

It was _personal_. And Harry knew that anything Snape took personally, he saw through- be it the father or the son.

"You're on," was all he said and smiled.

/ / /

_Argh! Not much reveal just yet, except Rasmus' personal quest against Osiris. But next chapter we'll get to Adeline and I HOPE the reveal of the hiding place. If I sit on the secret for too much longer, I think I'll burst! XD _

Responds:

**Sindie: **Thanks! I hope this was soon enough :)

**Biblioholic:** Thanks for reading! Glad you like my villains :D We don't see them TOO often, but then again we don't have to, do we?

**Bumblebee88888**: You're welcome for the overview. I know long fanfiction that is forced to update sporadically needs one of those. :P Hope you like this chapter!

**Duj**: …yeah… but then again Snapes are generally self destructive at one point in their lives or several, ne?

**Robyn Hawkes**: Here's a new chapter, hopefully sooner. Hope you enjoy :)


	42. Planning

Hello, hello! I don't even know how long it's been- DON'T tell me. I'm here to finish the story by Christmas. Here's hoping I will. I just hate leaving things unfinished, and since there's still people wanting to see how this ends, well… let's see, shall we?

Hit play!

Chapter 42

It was a shambles. Catastrophe. Calamity. But that wasn't the worst of it, in Minister Dawlish's book. The worst thing about it was that she had to stand there like she had when she was a pupil, and admit to it to the Headmistress of Hogwarts and her confounded foreigner DADA Professor both of whom she had explicitly disobeyed.

Isa Dawlish sat rigidly at the edge of her armchair, in Minerva McGonagall's office. This time no tea had been offered to her, no courtesy or pleasantries had been given to cut the heavy silence that reigned in the room while the two women waited for Nikos to join them for this meeting.

Minerva's features were stony, and she too was rigid and stern like a chesspiece, and just as immobile in her chair at her desk. Behind her, all the headmasters in their frames loomed and Isa was certain they glared, or jeered silently at her for being so foolish. Tears of rage burned behind her eyeballs. This humiliation was nightmare. She was Minister! She had, for once, all the cards in the game! Why hadn't she won? Why had she had to still have limitations, to not go for broke and win when she needed it so?

She wasn't sure if she was feeling rage or disgust, and for whom.

The polite knock on the door was soft, but such had been the silence in the Headmistress' office that it served to make Isa Dawlish flinch.

"Professor Galanos," Minerva called Nikos with pointed decorum. "Please join us. The Minister is here to explain the latest happenings."

Nikos entered and, though his expression was warmer than McGonagall's, it was closed and guarded too. Isa knew that they wouldn't again impart information they felt wasn't safe for her to handle- _I can virtually see them getting ready to childproof all debriefings. Damn them to hell too!_ She gnashed her teeth, feeling helpless. She was foolish to assume responsibility for this; it had to have been attributed to one of her underlings. Why hadn't that portrait in her room advised her to do THAT, instead of pushing her to submit to Hogwarts like still being its student, bound by it and limited by it? _Because he's never been in your service._ She had a good mind to burn the portrait on her way back.

"Hello, Minister Dawlish," Nikos said. "I am sorry for your aurors."

"I'd say you should be. You withheld information from me; for that I am holding you specifically responsible!" Isa snapped angrily. Nikos frowned.

"I told you that you shouldn't order that raid, that it wasn't time yet; I told you that if you tried that, you'd lose your men."

"But you didn't tell me how I'd win. And THAT's what I'd asked for," she pointed her finger at the haggard looking man accusingly. "You didn't serve me-"

"I'm sorry; I don't think you've got the picture properly," Nikos' eyes flashed angrily now, although his voice remained calm. "Never have I ever accepted or been obliged to **serve** you, Minster. I am not your subject and I am not in your service. I am here as a courtesy, and not to you. My allegiance lies with the Athenian Pythia, not London's Minister- and as far as contracts go, my only one on this land has been signed with Hogwarts' Headmistress. Therefore, provided I don't break any laws on your soil, you have no power to demand anything of me. Pray don't insult me like this again."

"And don't blame him for your mistakes," McGonagall said in a hissing, cutting voice that was reserved for those she felt were especially reviling. "You sent your men to their deaths, despite being told it was going to be so by an auguror. You are the only one liable, and you know it."

Isa's hands gripped her stopwatch pendant tightly, so tightly her knuckles turned white and her palms' flesh hurt.

"I wanted to rid Britain of evil."

"You will end up serving it like the useful idiot you have been so far," Snape's drawl hung in the air as he entered his portrait with a flourish. Isa didn't reply. Instead she focused all her self control into regaining her voice.

"The public cannot know of this shambles before some good news has arrived to avoid a mass panic," she said, staring angrily at the floor.

"There will be good news soon," Nikos said soothingly. "But until then, you must be patient."

Minerva watched Isa, leaning back in her chair. She was enraged that this …_person_ had been obtuse enough, or overconfident enough to do something so undeniably stupid as going against an arithmancer's predictions on a whim. She didn't trust her. What if she was corrupt? Or worse, just inane? _Was this how you were feeling when dealing with your share of ministers, Albus? Was this why you ended up being so secretive about everything you sabotaged your own self more than anyone else?_ She sighed.

"Minister Dawlish," she said as she sat up in her chair and knit her hands on her desk, "I cannot hide from you that what happened has troubled me greatly. I do understand your fervor, but it did cost the lives of many worthy men, and possibly will mean more effort on our part in order to defeat Isis and Osiris…"

"You don't need to rub it in," Isa said angrily. "I realize that well. It shall not happen again; I won't be able to deal with the publicity if I slip up again. I will… be far more careful of my decisions in the future. And of course my agreement to cooperate with you in this… fight against evil stands."

"Osiris has used the aurors you sent him to feed," Nikos said bluntly. "At this time he is potent, and Isis even stronger than he is. You can't afford to send him any more fodder to boost his strength, or eventually he will become all powerful- and neither you nor any of us will be able to stand against him and Isis. Is this clear, Minister?"

"It is," Isa forced herself to say. She hated to do it but she could see it; and she couldn't afford to ignore it again. _Bide your time; you will get what you want._ She got up. "Is there anything else?"

"We will inform you when it is time, of how to defeat this new menace," Minerva got up as well, raising her chin as she glared in warning. "Your _complete_ cooperation as of now shall be greatly appreciated."

/

Harry was dead set on helping Rasmus create the potion he needed, and to free his bloodline from the bond to Osiris. Goodness, he could understand the young Snape perfectly. He knew exactly how it felt to be linked to the personification of all evil, to be the reason it could still cling to the world, take lives, destroy, maim and murder. He wanted to help Rasmus be freed of it, exactly like he himself had stopped being Voldermort's horcrux. It had required him to die in order to do it; and in his heart, Harry knew it really was a fluke that he lived after that.

He feared that a Snape might not be as lucky; that if it came to dying to be free of a bond to evil, whatever that had been, however innocent of the situation, a Snape would have to die and stay dead, just like Severus had been. He pursed his lips together as he walked from aisle to aisle in the library, doing his part of the research for Rasmus' potion. _Maybe if I somehow manage to save your son from this fate, I will repay you,_ he thought of Rasmus' father. Though there was no wizard's debt binding Harry to Severus Snape, he always felt that he owed the lonely black clad man more than could ever be repaid.

Until now. Now, maybe, he could do something for Severus Snape that he would really _need_, even beyond the grave.

And that's why Harry studied as he hadn't studied before, following Hermione's directions and Rasmus' notes as much as possible.

"How's it going?"

He almost jumped at Rasmus' voice. How could he be so silent?

"I didn't hear you approach," he said with a little smile.

"Clearly," Rasmus' eyes twinkled in amusement as he drawled, so much like his dad, but unlike him in the same time. Despite everything, Rasmus' voice held no venom. "Well, it is a library."

"I'm making some headway, I think," Harry said quietly. "I found this; I'm sure it can be the Warding Agent you will need for a potion to protect against something as powerful as Blood Allurement." He handed Rasmus a small book titled _Tutela Obviam Malum_. Rasmus arched an eyebrow, impressed.

"I didn't know you could read Latin, Harry."

"I can't," Harry smirked. "But I do know a pretty good translation charm. Look here- there's a way to cast spells so they will be absorbed in potions. Your potion needs a powerful shielding agent and I think with a bit of practice I can nail that by making a spell absorb into the potion Hermione will make you."

Rasmus frowned.

"For a spell that powerful you'd need nothing sort of a Patronus."

Harry smiled smugly.

"I'm …kinda good with the Patronus spell. Didn't your dad ever tell you that about me?"

"He tended to focus on things he could despise about you," Rasmus chuckled as he handed the book back. "Let's go tell the others, then!"

/

Half of Nikos' mind was on Rasmus. Though he kept telling himself that surely, Rasmus wouldn't do anything stupid, anything foolhardy, that he was too smart for that, his heart wouldn't cease to worry. He needed to talk to him again, he needed to review those notes again, he needed to see what Rasmus was doing- but he couldn't.

Adeline Gaunt took precedence; he had to find the Key of Wind- he had to be quick, before more devastation happened, before Isis and Osiris gained more power, before they felt strong enough to attack to take his grandson again. If he was fast enough, maybe, just maybe whatever Rasmus was hatching as a plan in his mind would be irrelevant, maybe Nikos would make everything safe in time.

He needed the Key of Wind for that; and for the Key of Wind, he needed Adeline Gaunt.

So when Isa Dawlish left via floo Minerva sent for Adeline, calling her away from her class and he had to wait there, with the Headmistress, instead of going to see how his godson was doing, that he wasn't doing anything… _anything that his mother or father would do._ He rubbed at his temple. He was tired, he was distressed and he was worried.

And Minerva could see it, watching the Greek wizard fidget in his chair, and she sympathized. She wasn't sure what to do- talk or give him his space? So much had happened in such little time, and he had shouldered a frighteningly large part of it. She was thankful he had, but wasn't sure how to help him feel the brunt of it less.

"I am pretty sure the minister won't be a problem anymore," she ventured. "If anything, she cares about her public image too much."

"Yes, maybe," Nikos agreed absent mindedly, rubbing at his eyes. "Maybe now with the Key… I will be able to pull Isis and Osiris back to Greece with me, and deal with them there, along with my people. They will follow the Key's trace."

"You plan on leaving Britain?" Minerva was surprised and disappointed. She had hoped he would complete the term, at least.

"Just me," Nikos said, and he looked at her with eyes that were powerful and wary. "Can I count on you to keep Rasmus here, when I do? He will be safe here, while we deal with the prime wizards in Greece. We've done so before and our _Hypate_ has dealt with Isis very efficiently. In fact she was thought to have killed her. This time we'll just make sure the job is done irrevocably."

"Of… of course, of course I'll do that Nikos," she said earnestly. "But surely I can offer you more help than just that!"

"No; that's the only thing I ask of you… just keep Rasmus here." Nikos said as if that was a great feat to achieve.

And then, Adeline Gaunt entered, watching the two wizards with alertness. Nikos stood up and smiled at her.

"Hello, Adeline. Are you ready?"

"If our agreement stands," Adeline said, though she knew that Nikos had made an Unbreakable Vow with her regarding his promise to take her to Greece if she wanted it. Nikos smiled and nodded towards Salazar's portrait.

"Cross my heart," he quipped, pulling his wand as Minerva stood to the side to allow him and Adeline to walk up to the portrait.

Salazar Slytherin looked at Adeline with smug approval, and she looked back at him with the same glance of superiority stemming from mutual understanding.

"You're going to reveal our secret to him?" he asked the girl.

"Yes," she said. "He's good enough."

"Hmph," Salazar glanced at Nikos who tilted his head a little cheekily but said nothing, waiting in expectation.

And true enough, Adeline drew in a breath and begun to hiss and slur in the eerie language that was Parseltongue; and so did Salazar's portrait.

And before Nikos' eyes, the secret to the Key of Wind's location was revealed, and he marveled in appreciation of the sheer cunning of one of Hogwarts' Founding Fathers.

_Salazar Slytherin, you truly were a brilliant man. _

/

And that's it for tonight! Tomorrow, more. Saturday at the latest.

Also another question for you: I am a VERY old school fanfiction user. Most of these new bells and whistles FF has are alien to me. Do you mind terribly if I still answer comments here, like we used to do back when we had to? If you do, I'll abstain from it.

Anyway, I am really looking forward to your thoughts on this. I am really writing it just for you guys, so tell me what you think. It's been some time since I last wrote any fanfiction, and fantasy at that; so I'm curious if this is at all boring to you, or it's still interesting


	43. Brief Author's note: Recap and Ch 42

Ok somehow I messed up and my new Chapter (n. 42: Planning) shows up as the author note. I'm just trying to let you know I've updated with more than just a note.

If you guys need a recap of what's happened more or less up to now, here's the recap from chapter 40, along with an extra line or two:

_**Brief story summary for those who have forgotten (feel free to bypass if you remember the yarn)**__: Minerva realizes that Snape had a son with a Greek potions-and-things-that-go-boom master who is dead. He was keeping Rasmus secret for security reasons, but now at his 15 Rasmus transfers to Hogwarts with his uncle Nikos(who is also his godfather) as chaperone. Nikos is an Arithmancer of high level and dangerous application called an Auguror (he can see into the immediate future with his equations or open portals in the dimensions) and an accomplished dueler. Minerva and the others realize these two have come with a mission to keep the bigger, badder, more nefarious dark wizards from reaching full power. These are none other than the ancient gods Isis and Osiris, who have kept themselves alive through anchors and horcrux-y stuff. These two have a cult that is battled by the Pythagorians, a secret society of wizards mainly in Greece that both Rasmus' parents turn out to have been members of. Nikos is, too. Isis needs Blood of Victors (and other icky stuff) of potent dark wizards to keep Osiris alive and not-a-mummy. When she fails to harvest the bodies of Snape and Dumbledore, she goes after Minerva, Harry Potter and Rasmus to harvest the ingredients she needs. Yes, Harry Potter has also come with Hermione and Ron to complete their senior year, and get tangled up in this great mess- because it wouldn't be Harry if trouble didn't find him, too._

_In the raid that ensues to harvest these guys, the DADA professor and Poppy are killed, and everyone else is battered in some way. Rasmus feels most of this is his fault for disobeying Snape's portrait's order to go hide. Minerva asks Nikos to serve as DADA professor for the remainder of the year to teach kids to defend against such potent aggressors as the type of wizards Isis and Osiris are._

_Turns out that to reach full power, Isis and Osiris need to get in possession of magic artifacts called 'keys' of which they are currently trying to get the one Salazar Slytherin pinched from Osiris back in the Middle Ages and hid somewhere in Hogwarts. Of course no matter how much they or their minions have looked over the ages, nobody found it because Sal is crafty. :P_

_In the meantime, Rasmus feels guilty for allowing Osiris to steal blood from him twice at the near-death of his uncle, so he researches a way to 'make it right' by undoing the spell-bind that uses his blood to keep Osiris tied to the living. While this is happening, Isa Dawlish who is Minister is trying to round up Isis' cultists using intelligence Minerva gives her from Nikos' Augury (the advanced arithmancy), but she also botches it because she tried for a raid Nikos said she should keep away from, and all of her aurors are butchered. That is not going to look well in the polls, so Isa throws a fit._

_Lastly, we find out that one of the antagonizing Slytherin students in Rasmus' class, Adeline Gaunt, is considered by Salazar's portrait as the true Heir of Slytherin, as she speaks parseltongue, shares Salazar's blood and doesn't want anything to do with Tom Riddle (to avoid harassment), and has told her where he hid the key. So she goes to Nikos to strike a deal with that collateral while Snape talks to Rasmus from his portrait, trying to keep him from applying his research on the whole Blood Bond thing._

_Also, Lyall, the sole survivor from the auror raid, is salvaged by Frideswide and Nikos but it's on the fence yet if he'll make it, while Harry and co. tell Rasmus they'll help him in his efforts. _

_So far so good. :P_


	44. Advancing

Here you go guys. As promised, next chapter. Entering the countdown to the end. I'm still speedwriting so keep that in mind…

Chapter 43.

Osiris watched as the soft fabric slipped off Isis' shoulders, revealing her smooth, beautiful curves and rich, rye-tinted skin. She had her head bent, chanting over the repetitive hum of her followers surrounding her in a tight circle, casting the spells that would mask Isis' magic from the prying eyes of whoever was looking- mainly that insolent _kefa_, that auguror that had been a thorn in their sides since Isis brought him back, destroying all the ingredients that were intended for his Anchors' amulets…

He seethed just thinking about him. But he was nothing; a worm, a roach that had been lucky so far. But luck ran out, and Osiris knew that Isis was making sure of it with this incantation. He focused again on Isis as powerful, lime green fire erupted around her and her followers intensified their humming. She raised her hands up into the sky, directing the flames as she chanted, and started swaying with the cadence. She was graceful and terrible in the same time, a force and a scourge, the true mistress of the cosmos. As her arms transfigured slowly into wings, and she continued the ritualistic dancing, the flames licked and caressed her like a lover; Osiris breathed in as if trying to steal some of that essence for himself. He hated that he wasn't part of these chants, of this absolute magic. He had always hated it, it felt like it was always beyond his reach.

_Be patient. It will soon be yours._

The green flames that snaked and threaded around Isis started thinning out, spinning centrifugally as she danced, unfurling from the invisible spindles that the prime witch's energy created until they formed a firey, pulsating net over their heads. Isis arched back then, as her followers around her bowed their heads to the ground and stopped the humming. With one command in a language so archaic that Osiris himself didn't quite understand, the net erupted concentrically, spreading in all directions until it disappeared from sight, and all was still.

Osiris rose up then, as Isis' arms turned back to human form. He picked up her robes and gently pushed them on her shoulders. She smiled at him with that quiet yet so unnerving smile of power and assertion. Not even Ra had been able to withstand Isis' cunning. A puny little mortal like Galanos and everyone else he'd ran to for help would not be any different.

Nobody ever was any different.

"It is done, my _Ausar_," Isis said. "Now, all we need to do is wait."

/

Hermione was tingling with excitement over this. If it worked, it would be one of the most important magic endeavours she had dabbled in; and she'd dabbled in more than her share of important, ground breaking or extremely important magic in her years.

Waiting for the rest to arrive, she pulled the appropriate books from her book bag and started setting up for the experiment. With a piece of chalk she started tracing the signs on the floor. It was when she was about finished with it that Ron entered with Harry. He had a pretty big rat in a cage.

"Nice going, Ron! Harry, did you get it?" Hermione asked Harry.

Harry pulled what looked to be a trinket from his pocket, and with a quick swish of his wand unshrunk it into its real size- a large golden cauldron.

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "Wasn't that hard. For a change being the Boy-Who-Lived helped and I was sent this post-haste."

"Good," she smiled and levitated the cauldron to have it sit at the middle of her scribbled floor signs. "So now we just need to wait for Rasmus."

"I'm here," came the younger Snape's voice not too long after that. "Sorry, I needed to help Finn with some of his homework, or he'd ask questions I didn't feel like answering."

Rasmus looked troubled, or harrowed, or both as he entered. He looked around at the Golden Trio and nodded.

"Are we ready to try this? I got all the other ingredients we need."

Hermione was burning to try this. Making such a potent potion, that was not quite a potion, but a combination of spell and chemistry that bordered on sheer Alchemy, captured her inquisitiveness and urge for experimentation immeasurably.

But while she was an adult, and Ron and Harry too, and with quite a few battles under their belt, Rasmus was just 15. While she was aware that Rasmus had managed not to die against a duel with Osiris himself, she knew that just like in Harry's case in the past, most of it was sheer good luck. He should be allowed to have more chances to live than his father had.

"Rasmus, are you sure that if we talked to your uncle, he wouldn't understand? Help?"

Rasmus scowled.

"I surely hope you haven't given anything away to him."

"No, of course not," she hurried to say. Harry stepped in too.

"Listen, Hermione's only saying that she doesn't want you to be seriously hurt doing this."

"That's why we got the rat," Rasmus said. "We're going to test, first."

"We all know we're gonna do this," Ron said with an eyeroll. "Otherwise we wouldn't be here. So let's get on with it, I think none of us wants to end up hurt or dead, and that includes the little Snape." He smiled at Rasmus as he was looking at him surprised at the redhead's words. "You're a little Snape. Snape was a lot of things but no idiot, and all of his plans worked so… I just wanna get to the action. I react better under pressure."

"Could have fooled me," smirked Rasmus but he nodded and opened his knapsack- it was filled to the brim with potions ingredients.

/

Under the odd words of Parseltongue, Adeline touched her wand to the canvas, right on Salazar Slytherin's painted hand. The man in the portrait responded in kind, and reaching in his robes he retrieved his own wand and touched its tip to Adeline's. Nikos and Minerva almost gaped as they watched the colours in the canvas kaleidoscope into a vortex around Slitherin's figure as he and his true heir chanted in their tongue. They didn't stop while the colors pulsated and churned and roiled, looking into each others' eyes with that smug understanding of before.

They only stopped their otherworldly chanting when the colors settled into a new background behind Slytherin- that of a long and dark rock-hewn cavern. Adeline turned to Nikos then and tended her hand to him.

"Take my hand, sir."

And Nikos did, and followed the girl as she stepped into the frame, using the sturdy wood as a step, and entered the painting with him. Salazar stood to the side to let them in, with a self satisfied smirk. Nikos was amazed. This was magic he had never encountered before.

"This is amazing," he muttered.

"I kept some tricks of mine… to myself," Slytherin chuckled as he turned to lead the way in the cavern, his robes swishing around him majestically. "I promised Pythagoras that I would make sure at least one Key would never be found by those imbecilic Egyptians, and I kept my promise."

"I thought these portraits are made post mortem," Nikos said quietly, almost reverently, as if he too was a student before a master.

"They normally are," Slytherin said. "But there's no reason why not to choose the setting and the canvas beforehand… so I did. Gryffindor was kind enough not to ask questions for a change and followed my instructions to the T. He destroyed, I hope, the spell scroll after he hid this. Evidence implies he did."

The Slytherin House founder led Adeline and Nikos deep in the cave. It smelled of the oils and egg of medieval paint, giving it a surreal feel that Nikos would never forget.

"You have hidden the Key here."

"Exactly… and now I am going to give it to you, because your bloodline is drawing it to you, and so I trust you won't lose it after all this trouble taken to hide it."

"I won't," Nikos promised as Slytherin bent to one of the darkest corners of the cave and retrieved a silver box.

"Take this. Don't open it here, or my canvas will be destroyed and I won't be happy about that," he instructed. "Destroy them; they are insufferable twits that think they can go against the nature of the cosmos… such idiocy cannot be tolerated anymore than muggle idiocy against wizards."

Nikos smiled.

"I promise you that, master Slytherin." He turned to go with a small bow.

Just before exiting the painting, Slytherin's voice reached Nikos' ears.

"Please, make sure my real heir survives, as well."

/

And that's that for tonight. The Key of Wind is finally found.

A word or two from you guys will be appreciated. I know you're reading might as well tell me your thoughts, you know.

More tomorrow.


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